Spell Check
by Chocolate Wolf
Summary: Hermione spends some time at the Burrow and takes a job at Weasley Wizard Wheezes. Oh the possibilities! Post DH with some adjustments and definite spoilers. Fred/Hermione
1. Prologue

A/N: Hey, all. Decided to update the fic, because if I have a shot of finishing it, I have to make sure I don't cringe reading my earlier chapters. It won't be as lighthearted as before, but I hope to maintain a sense of humor throughout.

Disclaimer: Just playing in the Rowling sandbox.

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Prologue

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Fred woke up suddenly and in the dark. His back felt very cool against the flagstone floor of the castle, because that's surely where he was. Only minutes ago a bright flash of light had hit the walls of Hogwarts and the stones had buckled inward, fell towards him as if he and they were magnetized.

The sounds of shoes scraping the floor could be heard around him and what were more disconcerting were the distinct sounds of crying in the air above him.

He could hear George—the familiar hitch before a sob that he'd heard seldom over the years, but often enough to recognize it. Fred frowned, an inappropriate joke at the tip of his tongue, or he tried to. His mouth refused to budge. Something simpler then; he tried opening his eyes. There was no response from his body, not a twitch, not a shudder.

Ginny was sniffling somewhere nearby, the angry sounds of her anguish easy to distinguish among the murmurs around him—his heart gave a panicked wrench at the thought of her pain. She was and always would be that little three year old girl who smiled up at him, her teddy clutched between her tiny hands like an offering.

The squeak of Percy's shirt against his glasses was the next thing he noticed, then his dad clearing his throat gruffly and his mum, breathless and still grieving, occasionally giving voice to a low moan that was muffled against something, probably dad's chest.

Why?

He tried moving again, inhaling for all he was worth, but his chest felt heavy. A little worm of panic began to form in his mind, a fear of small spaces and dark places that had never been a problem before suddenly manifest. He was stuck here, inside himself, while his family was grieving around them. Why didn't George _do _something? Make a joke? A tasteless, glib remark? A terrible pun? Anything?

Fred's brain was succumbing to lethargy, his head aching a little with a foggy pain he didn't recognize a moment before. He wondered, in the seconds before he passed out, if he was already dead.

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A/N: Reviews are love. ;)


	2. The End of a Beginning

**Disclaimer**: Most characters and settings owned by the loverly J.K. Rowling.

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Chapter One

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Voldemort was dead. That single thought ran rampant around the minds of each witch and wizard present for the great tyrant 's fall. They wouldn't have believed it had they not seen it with their very own eyes. The silence was absolute for a long moment before everyone ran all at once to embrace their hero. Screams, cries, yells, and cheers all dominated the air for the longest time in Hogwart's history.

"He's dead!"

"It's over! Oh, God, it's finally over."

The young hero's attention was passed from one desperate person to another until everyone had drunk in his calming presence. He made his way as quietly as possible to his dormitory for some well deserved quiet after consulting quickly with the group of crying redheads gathered around the late Fred Weasley. They all hugged him and thanked him for—well everything. A few, stinging tears ran down his face at the fallen jokester on the flagstones as well as for the bodies of his other two friends, Tonks and Remus. He swallowed hard a couple of times before escaping to Gryffindor tower.

A few moments later a group of Mediwizards arrived amidst the chaos, fully prepared to treat both the sick and the dead. They made their way through the Great Hall healing broken bones, cuts, bruises, and concussions, sending those with bad curse and hex after affects to St. Mungo's for more urgent treatments. The unmoving they checked for signs of life. If they were truly dead they were placed reverently in the middle of the hall. If they were found alive they were sent to St. Mungo's urgent care immediately.

One particular Mediwitch approached the group of Weasleys and one brown-haired girl with trepidation. She really hated this part of her occupation, the confrontation of the patient's family. Grief-struck individuals were as unpredictable and prone to lash out as cornered animals, but she had a duty to perform and she'd do it gladly. These were the heroes that would be spoken of for generations with veneration and awe.

"Excuse me," she interrupted the group quietly, her hands smoothing her lime green robes nervously. Most of them looked up at her through tear-blurred, bloodshot eyes. The middle aged witch was too distraught to do more than quiet her grief, "I'm sorry to disturb you, but…I…I have to check…It's my job to see…"

"It's alright, dear. Go ahead." A balding redheaded man holding the sobbing witch spoke gruffly, but his blue eyes were kind. The Mediwitch fought off the sudden tightening in her throat as she knelt by the first person. His eyes were closed and he looked peaceful, the lines on his face betraying his age, his clothes betraying the wear of a long stay in a short life. He had sandy hair and dark shadows beneath his closed eyes. She performed a few spells, checking then double-checking that this man was truly dead. He had been killed by the worst Unforgivable Curse. She moved to the young woman next to him. Her bubblegum pink hair was matted with sweat and blood, but she looked no less peaceful than the sandy-haired corpse lying next to her. There was a nasty gash on her temple, probably the cause of her death. The Mediwitch performed her spell, determining that her theory was correct and the blow to her temple had caused her to die instantly. She also determined that the poor woman had just had a baby. She let out a sniffle before moving on to the second man, the man that was unmistakably related to the group now surrounding him. She performed one of the first spells taught to Healers-in-training, the one that told her if a person had a heart beat, without much hope of finding a pulse. She started to move on to a second spell when she felt a faint rhythm working its way through her wand and up her arm. His heart beat at a soft, almost unnoticeable pace.

"He's alive," she gasped, smiling crookedly. She fumbled for a tongue depressor in the pockets of her robes and turned it into a portkey, "I need someone to go with him to St. Mungo's to provide personal information."

The redheads stared blankly at her, not comprehending her words, until the brown haired girl spoke, "Fred's alive. Did you hear? Who will go with him to the hospital? George?" Her words broke through the shock and George looked up, startling the Mediwitch. The person kneeling at the head of the unconscious man was, in fact, the unconscious man. She blinked, sure she'd finally cracked under the pressure. A second later she could have slapped herself—he must be the man's twin.

"I'll go. Take us," he whispered, moving forward to clutch her hands in his. His eyes were both hopeful and desperate.

"Right," she breathed back. Grasping the unconscious man's wrist with one hand, and his twin's clammy hand with the other, she told him to grab the tongue depressor portkey. George grasped it quickly and they felt a jolt behind their navels before they disappeared, leaving the rest of the family in a state of horrified relief.

"He's…alive?" Ron uttered, dumbstruck.

"He's alive," Charlie confirmed, letting out a choked laugh and rubbing his eyes.

"Bloody hell," squeaked Percy, shocking everyone into a shaky laugh.

Molly Weasley's sobs quieted and finally stopped. She patted her husband's chest affectionately, wincing at the amount of water she had left on his robes, "Well, dears," her voice was raspy after so much crying, "Let's go make sure Fred's settled before we go home and rest." She gave her large family a watery smile and they all nodded back at her, tired beyond all reason. "You're welcome to join us, Hermione dear," she added, really noticing her presence for the first time.

Hermione thanked her, but said that she should probably keep Harry company. Mrs. Weasley nodded and told her to inform Harry that he would be fed within an inch of his life when he was ready to come home. She gave a chuckle and a promise that she would convey the message verbatim. She stepped forward to hug her wizarding family, giving Ron a kiss on the cheek before she headed to Gryffindor Tower.

"Let's go," said Mr. Weasley, leading his family past the rubble and destruction and off the grounds, where all members promptly disapperated.

Hermione quickly made her way up the stairs despite the bone-deep weariness that seemed to seep from her in waves. Ron had told her that he would be back as soon as he knew Fred would be okay. She allowed herself a quick smile before thinking on more serious matters. What now? They had skipped out on their last year at Hogwarts. Would the school reopen soon? Would the fugitives of Gryffindor be allowed to come back for one final year of education? What happens if they weren't allowed to come back or if Hogwarts took longer than expected to reopen?

_From one worry to another_, she thought to herself, amused at her own constant negative train of thought. She approached the Fat Lady, now worried that she was no longer privy to the password.

"I doubt protocol is necessary at this point and at this ungodly hour of the morning," the Fat Lady said wryly, swinging open for the relieved Gryffindor.

"Thank you." Hermione entered the common room and made her way deliberately to the boys' dormitory. She knocked lightly on the door to Harry and Ron's room before opening it softly and entering.

Harry was sprawled on his bed, hands behind his shaggy, dark head, and was staring avidly at the top of his four-poster, "I'm so tired I can't sleep. Where's Ron?" She laughed lightly and poked him in the side. He scooted over leaving her enough space to lie next to him.

"A Mediwitch arrived to check the bodies for vital signs right after you left the Great Hall. Fred's alive, Harry." He whipped his head around to look at her. "They took him to St. Mungo's immediately and the whole family followed."

"Alive?" He pressed the dirt-stained heels of his hands onto his eyelids, rubbing them gently, "God…thank God. I never would have been able to forgive myself if he had…if they had lost…" he broke off, suppressing a sob.

Hermione turned on her side, looking at him affectionately, "It still wouldn't have been your fault, Harry. It was an explosion, an accident caused by a wayward spell. And, it wasn't you who cast it. Although, if it had been you who cast it, I wouldn't have been able to forgive you either." He gave her a shocked look and she grinned. "As the best friend of the brightest witch of our age, I would have expected your spell work to be superb." Harry laughed so hard he almost fell off the bed. Hermione smiled to herself, glad that Harry was at last able to really enjoy mirth again. After he had calmed down to a significant degree, he turned onto his left side to face her and told her everything that had happened from the moment he left her sight. He had to stop in the middle to allow her to compose herself. She had begun to cry when he began talking of his self-sacrifice to Voldemort and had grasped his hand tightly in hers as if she wanted corporeal proof that he was really there with her.

"Oh, Harry," she whispered when he was done, "You realize you're free now—

for the most part?"

He looked at her, his eyes marking all small cuts and streaks of grime for later inspection, and smiled with the most tired and relieved eyes she'd ever seen, "For the most part." They spent a few moments in blessed silence, their eyelids growing heavier by each passing second.

"Ms. Weasley said that you would be fed to within an inch of your life when you get home," Hermione yawned, closing her eyes.

Harry chuckled softly, "Good."

They fell asleep holding hands.

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A/N: Reviews are love.


	3. Misdirected

Disclaimer: Just playing in Rowling's sandbox.

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Chapter Two

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After the war was over, the wizarding world hardly knew what to do with itself. Not a single Death Eater had escaped capture, which many remarked was an unprecedented event, as if Dumbledore himself was aiding from beyond the grave. A week or two was spent basking in the presence of unharmed, loved ones before the magnificent wheel gave a great groan and began to move again. The first thing to be repaired was the fractured Ministry of Magic. Kingsley Shacklebolt had been named temporary Minister; and, after a quick magical tally, he became the Minister officially. The Ministry was refurbished, yet again, this time under the watchful eye of the new magical leader. Many were pleased to see it looked even better than when Fudge had redecorated. There were no distasteful statues of wizards this time, but a large, marble memorial was placed in the center of the entrance hall to honor all the people who had been killed during both parts of the war. Harry Potter's parents were on the top of the memorial followed by the more recent dead such as Severus Snape, Sirius Black, Remus and Nymphadora "Tonks" Lupin and Alastor "Mad-eye" Moody. Fred Weasley's name never had to be added.

Another great ongoing wizarding project was the rebuilding, reorganization and reopening of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Battle of Hogwarts—or to those who learned of Harry Potter's miraculous return from the dead, The Phoenix Battle—had damaged most of the grounds, the Entrance Hall, the Great Hall and also a great deal of the various hallways, vestibules and rooms littering the vast grey castle. Bill, Fleur and Charlie Weasley had temporarily postponed their jobs in order to help rebuild their alma mater, and they were not the only ones. With a large group of volunteers, primarily made up of alumni and teachers of the partially decimated school, it was determined that the school would reopen just in time for a new term.

Needless to say, Hermione Granger, student extraordinaire, was ecstatic at the news.

"Mum! Dad!" a voice sailed down the stairs from the direction of Hermione's room. The couple, who had been enjoying a quiet cup of coffee, looked up sharply in unison as their seventeen year old daughter slid down the banister to land primly on the first floor in front of the small kitchen table.

"Hermione, how many times has your mother told you not to slide down the banister?" her father gave her a sterner look than he would normally have sent her way had they not just been apparated back from Australia a few days ago. Both of her parents were beyond the boundaries of hurt and absolutely infuriated when she had reversed the memory charms she had used to keep them both safe. She had changed their identities, their location, and without a word of warning or goodbye had gone off to fight the cruelest and deadliest man on Earth. They could not admit it out loud yet, but they were more upset at the fact they had come so close to losing her than the fact that she had used magic on them without their permission. Shaken and appalled, they had been lashing out at their daughter without really meaning to.

"I'm sorry. Just a reflex I suppose," she muttered, avoiding their eyes. "I just wanted to tell you that they're going to reopen Hogwarts in time for the start of term. So, I don't think I'll have to wait an extra year to finish my education."

"You don't think or you don't know?" her mother said coldly, taking a sip of her coffee, "Don't come to us with speculation, Hermione. We need facts."

Hermione bit her lip to keep herself calm, "I'm sorry. I'll owl for information right away." Her mother said nothing, turning back the morning edition of the local newspaper. She looked at her dad who gave a look that barely passed for apologetic. She nodded and traveled quickly back to her small room, trying to keep from letting out a sob until she had shut the door. Hermione understood why they were acting so harshly, particularly her mother, but it didn't make the silence easier and the cold any more tolerable. She cried quietly for a minute before taking refuge in her favorite, well-worn novel _Pride and Prejudice_.

The book pulled her out of her painful reality and into another's, giving her shelter from her own turbulent thoughts until a hesitant knock at her door brought her back with a jolt.

"Come in," she said, hoping the redness around her eyes had faded.

Her father entered the room cautiously, ducking to prevent his head from hitting the top of the door frame. Hermione had not inherited her dad's monstrous height. Instead, she received his warm brown eyes and his frizzy hair. She loved him for the former, and before their unpleasant behavior had started, she had scolded him constantly for passing on his genes for the latter. He always got a kick out of mussing her hair whenever he could, but these days he kept his hands to himself.

He gave a great sigh and looked at his daughter with sadness, "Hermione, your mum and I had a discussion. We know you thought you were doing the right thing by protecting us—"

"It was the right thing," Hermione glared, firing up at once.

"Don't interrupt me!" he hissed, running his hands through his hair in agitation, "We know you were doing it for our protection, but the fact is—we almost lost our only daughter to a maniac and we would have _never_ known. We would have never even known we had a daughter. That's—It's just doesn't bear thinking about. It's too difficult, Hermione. That's why we think it would be best if you stayed the rest of spring and maybe summer with your friends," he looked down at his large hands, away from her broken expression, "We need time to forgive and forget the horror, and we don't think we can do it with you here to constantly remind us of what we almost lost. Just give us some time, some space and everything will be back to normal." He gave her a weak smile that didn't quite mask the desperation he showed.

Hermione nodded, her demeanor now as frigid as her mother's had been this morning, "If you _really_ think that's best. I'll write Mrs. Weasley tonight."

He shivered, almost feeling the cold she was radiating, and almost reached out to muss her hair before dropping his hand swiftly and leaving the room.

Molly Weasley was dozing in the somewhat uncomfortable visitor's chair next to the hospital bed of one Fred Weasley, jokester and ex-vegetable. He had made an almost full recovery, but the Mediwizards still wanted him here for observation. They had kept him especially long because he had spent more than two weeks in a comatose state before he woke screaming. He had not stopped until they had given him a sedative.

_Well, that's what a bloke does when he's been trapped inside his own head for two weeks_, Fred thought, scowling. His mother had not left his side the entire time except when the rest of the family cajoled her into a shower, a meal or sleep. George had been exactly the same way until Fred had threatened to really give him something to live in the hospital for. He couldn't stop his mother for all the riches in Gringotts, but he'd be damned if he let his brother and best mate lose sleep over him. Now George only visited during the day, telling him about how Diagon Alley was busier than ever and that he should hurry up and get out of the hospital dress before he starts called Fred 'Alfreda'.

Fred smiled at the memory. He had jinxed a pair of antlers onto his brother before Anne, the Mediwitch who had saved Fred's life, had come back to kick George out for disturbing his twin. George got caught in the doorway until she shrunk the antlers a bit before giving Fred his daily checkup. She had refused to reverse the jinx saying that now the size of his head matched the size of his ego. George, to his twin's great surprise, had blushed scarlet before muttering something nondescript and leaving. Not knowing Fred was watching, Anne gave his departing brother a shy smile before tending to her duties. Even if he did only have a week to go, he was determined to get those two together.

Mrs. Weasley gave a small sigh and slept on. He looked at his mother fondly jumping slightly at a tap on the door. The night Mediwizard, Jack, poked his face into the crack of the open door, and, seeing Fred's inquisitive look, walked in quietly.

"A letter for your mother," he whispered, glancing at the sleeping witch, "Owl just came in. It's a bit late for letter writing don't you think?"

"Very late. Whoever wrote it must be in a hurry to convey the message," Fred grinned. The American had quickly become one of the twins' favorite people. He had a wicked mind like theirs.

"Could be an emergency," Jack mused, smiling as he handed the letter to Fred and walked back towards the door.

"I should read it immediately then. I'm sure it's not _so_ important as to wake my poor mother from her rest."

Jack smirked as he closed the door, saying, "No, the poor dear is exhausted. Best take care of it yourself." The door shut with a click, and Fred chuckled softly as he looked at the handwriting on the front. It looked familiar, but he couldn't recall whose hand it was. He broke the seal on the envelope and unfolded the letter.

_Dear Mrs. Weasley,_

_Forgive the lateness of the hour, but I had to write immediately. I'm so sorry to disturb you. I'm sure you have so much to do what with the rebuilding of Hogwarts and Fred's hospitalization. The reason I'm writing is that my parents and I have had a sort of disagreement, and they have decided it might be best if I stayed with friends until the start of term. Would it be a terrible inconvenience if I stayed at the Burrow until then? If it is too much of a burden I could always stay at Grimmauld Place or at the Leaky Cauldron. I just wanted to check with you first, because you, Mr. Weasley and your children have quickly become my much loved wizarding family. Even if you decide it would be too much trouble, I would love to hear how everyone is doing. Thank you for everything, Mrs. Weasley._

_With all my love,_

_Hermione _

_P.S. How is Fred doing by the way? I hope he hasn't set the hospital on fire._

Fred laughed at her post script intending to poke fun at her later for it. He reread it again, and the smile faded from his lips. He wondered what type of disagreement could have separated her from her parents when everyone else in the wizarding world was clinging to loved ones with unflinching tenacity. They had probably just had the fight today since the letter was written only hours earlier. Fred also wondered how bad it had to be that Hermione doubted whether or not Mrs. Weasley would let her stay at the Burrow. His whole family had made it clear that they would add a whole extra floor if Hermione or Harry decided to stay permanently.

The letter did not sit well with him. He began to wish he'd never opened it but stopped himself. That wouldn't be doing Hermione justice at all. He refolded the letter with care and placed it on his nightstand intending to give it to his mum in the morning _after_ she enjoyed a good night's sleep. Quietly pulling back his covers, he snuck out of bed and to the door. He opened it enough to glance down the hallway to where Jack was lounging, listening sleepily to the Wizarding Wireless Network.

"Psst," Fred hissed down the hall, causing the Mediwizard to jump to attention.

Jack scowled when he saw who it was and whispered, "Get back in bed you invalid!"

"I need a quill, a piece of parchment, and an owl."

Jack ceased his scowling, "So it was important then? The letter?"

Fred nodded, "A friend's in need." Jack went back to his desk and grabbed a ragged quill, a piece of parchment and a bottle of black ink.

He walked back to Fred and handed him the items, "I'll send an owl myself when you're done. Anne will kill me if I let you anywhere near a bird. She thinks the ruddy animals carry diseases."

Fred smirked and wagged a finger, "You never know. Thanks mate." He closed the door on the skeptical look gracing his friend's face and got to work writing a reply.

_Dearly beloved Hermione,_

_ How are you Hermione DARLING? How's your mental recovery from the homicidal maniac been? I'm here, bored out of my mind, at St. Mungo's. Said boredom was the reason I opened your letter. That and the fact that my mother needs some well-deserved sleep. I hope you can find it in your lovely, bookish heart to forgive me._

_I just thought I owed it to you to write back immediately. I can speak for my mother when I say OF COURSE YOU CAN STAY AT THE BURROW! You could live there forever and a day and no one would find it out of the ordinary. Besides, mum's going to want more people around once she goes back home after I escape the hospital. Bil, Fleur and Charlie are living in Hogsmeade while they are helping rebuild, George and I are still living at our flat above the joke shop, and Percy is still living with Penelope in London. Mum, I'm sure, will need more people to stuff with only Ron, Ginny and Dad left. You can even stay here with me in my nice, cozy hospital room. You'll have to find your own gown though, I've grown rather fond of mine. Go ahead and apparate here tomorrow. I guarantee mum will be waiting to hug you when you get here. See you then!_

_With all the love that I possess, and even some I don't,_

_Your obedient love slave,_

_Fred_

_P.S. I only burned half of the hospital down. The rest is perfectly fine._

With a grin, he sealed it with a spell and stuck his head out into the hallway again. Jack was waiting with an open hand, and Fred gave him a bright smile before turning in for the night. He needed his rest to face Hermione's wrath tomorrow.

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A/N: Reviews are love.


	4. St Mungo's

A/N: Huzzah! A new chapter for you all. I love the reviews. Thanks to harry'sPhoenixWand, blackwolfs900, loveofsapphires, Black Mirror, BabeCake, Abraxania, SnarkyGirl91, Malik Fan 03, mackgirl, kymikial, FredWeasleyLover1126, worldsapart, miz vanessa anne, and quidditchgirl07. Yes, the epilogue will be changed a bit, and I agree that there is no magical world without Fred Weasley. Thanks again for the reviews. They make me happy.

Disclaimer: Almost all to J.K. Rowling. *bows*

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Chapter Three

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Hermione woke from an uneasy sleep when she heard a persistent tapping noise. She rubbed her eyes to see the smallest pink glow creeping through her window from the sky outside and a small, beige owl flapping at eye level, determined to be let in. This wasn't the same owl she had summoned from Eeylop's. It was sleeker and smaller, like it was built for speed rather than distance. It also looked exhausted, poor thing. She let it in before creeping downstairs to grab a bowl from the kitchen and filled it with water. She quickly reentered her room and gave the grateful bird the cool liquid before untying the letter from its foot.

Hermione opened it quickly, scanning the contents by the light of the sunrise outside. She was annoyed at Fred's nosiness at first, but her irritation was offset by his superfluous manner of writing and the gratitude she felt upon his reply to her inquiry. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. The blaring red digital numbers read 4:30 AM. She didn't think she'd be able to get back to sleep. Her mind had barley let her drift off the first time. She removed her Hogwarts trunk from the small, oak wardrobe against the peach-colored wall and began to pack. She would be completely ready to go in an hour, when her parents would be stumbling around the kitchen for their morning coffee. They had imbued their daughter with the habit of being an early riser, something which, at the moment, she now appreciated.

She didn't use magic this time, savoring the distraction of physical activity. Her hypothesis was correct. By the time she had finished packing, and had shrunk her suitcase to a more manageable size, she could hear the sounds of her mother fumbling with the coffeemaker and her father turning the pages of the morning paper. She braced herself, pocketed her miniscule trunk, picked up Crookshanks in his cage, and went downstairs.

Her mother was in a fleece tartan robe that reminded Hermione strongly of Professor McGonagall. She was staring fixedly out of the window while she pressed the coffeemaker's auto-on button. Her father had abandoned the paper to pursue a crossword puzzle in the book his daughter had given him last Christmas.

Hermione hesitated before gathering her courage and speaking, "Mum, Dad, I'm ready to go." Both of her parents glanced at her for a long time before moving. Her father rose to give her a swift hug and a kiss on the head.

"I'll see you around, love," he whispered into her hair and went back to his crossword puzzle. Her mother didn't say anything but pulled her into a long embrace before letting her go and turning back to the window with moist eyes.

Hermione held back a sob, "I'm sorry. I love you both. Goodbye." She disapparated before they could say anything, appearing in a trash-ridden London alley. She took a few moments to compose herself before walking briskly to the rundown clothing store nearby and telling the mannequin that she was there to see Fred Weasley. She looked around at the empty sidewalk before stepping through the glass and into St. Mungo's.

The waiting room was less crowded than when she had entered the first time, but the cases were still as bizarre. She saw one woman with a profuse fountain of cherry soda pouring from her left nostril, a man with a large pair of dragonfly wings that kept twitching nervously, and another man who had a rather unhappy monkey attached to his left arm. Hermione thought to herself that she really didn't want to know and walked to the receptionist's desk. A plump witch with auburn hair and a bored air sat slumped in her seat, doodling idly on a paper that looked like it listed the patients in line for treatment.

Hermione gave her a scathing look, "Excuse me, but I'm here to see Fred Weasley."

The receptionist looked up, seeming to have a difficult time focusing on the girl in front of her, "What?"

"I'm here to see Fred Weasley," Hermione repeated again, slower this time, "He should be out of emergency care and into recovery."

"Weasley," the woman muttered to herself, finally coming out of her boredom-induced stupor. She rifled through a large book to the right of her doodling paper until she found what she was looking for, "Fred Weasley is in the Poddlemore Ward on the fifth floor. The lift is down the hall and to the right." She pointed at the hall to her right, and Hermione set off, giving her a quick, "Thanks." She walked down the hallway, still slightly nervous about her reception by Mrs. Weasley. Hermione rode the wide lift up the enormous building, exited, made right turn and pushed open the door with a brass plaque reading, "Poddlemore Ward: Recovery." Another desk occupied the space just inside the ward, but this time a pretty Healer in lime green robes was sorting through piles of paperwork and looked up immediately at her entrance.

"Hello," the Healer said with a smile, "Can I help you?"

"I hope so. I'm looking for Fred Weasley. I was told he'd be in this ward," Hermione said, stepping forward and placing Crookshanks and his cage on the floor.

The Healer shook her head with a rueful smile, "Oh, he's here alright. Room 103. That man's always up to some mischief. Even if it's only leaving his bed when he shouldn't."

Hermione smiled at the description, "Sounds like Fred. Thank you."

She picked up Crookshanks' cage, and was just about to leave, when the Mediwitch stopped her, "Oh, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to leave your animal with me. They aren't allowed in the rooms for safety reasons."

Hermione frowned, "Oh, I suppose that's fine. He'll be okay here?" She glanced down at her pet.

"Yes, he'll be fine. I'll be on duty until nightfall, so he'll be in good hands," the Healer gave her a kind smile which Hermione returned, handing the cage over.

"He's gorgeous," the woman said, peering into the wicker cage.

Hermione beamed, "Thank you. Aside from you, I'm the only one who really seems to appreciate that fact." She walked away, leaving the Healer to coo happily at the slightly disgruntled ginger-haired cat.

Room 103 was the second door on the left and Hermione checked her wristwatch before knocking lightly on the wooden door. It opened a moment later to a sleepy-eyed, redheaded woman with a large smile on her kind face. Hermione felt a small string of tension inside her body relax when she saw Mrs. Weasley. The older woman always seemed to emit an aura of calm and comfort that pleasantly affected the people around her.

"Hello, Hermione dear. How are you?" Mrs. Weasley stepped out of the room and pulled her into a warm hug.

"I'm fine Mrs. Weasley. How are you? How's Fred?" Hermione asked, already feeling better about her whole circumstance.

"Oh, I'm perfectly fine and so is he." Mrs. Weasley gestured offhandedly to the room, "I'm off to get a cup of tea upstairs. Would you care for one?"

Hermione took one look at her tired face before deciding that Mrs. Weasley could use some peace and quiet, "No, I'm fine. Thank you. I'll keep Fred company while you're gone."

Mrs. Weasley gave her a grateful smile, "Thank you, Hermione. Oh, I almost forgot. Fred gave me your letter. Of course you're welcome to stay at the Burrow as long as you like. I'll ask George to take your things to the twin's old room when he gets here later."

The rest of Hermione's remaining tension drained out at those words, "I can't thank you enough Mrs. Weasley."

"Don't mention it, dear," the woman smiled, beginning to walk away, "I'll be back soon." Hermione smiled after the retreating witch before turning to the door and walking through, shutting it behind her.

"Ah, Hermione, you're here at last. Is it time for my sponge bath?" Fred said grinning as he leaned back against the headrest.

She glared at him, but couldn't stop the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth, "No, Umbridge will be coming by to do that later."

Fred laughed before giving an exaggerated shudder, "You're a cruel woman, Hermione Granger."

"And you're as vibrant as ever Fred Weasley," Hermione grinned as she reached his bedside and was immediately pulled into a hug, "How are you?"

"I'm perfectly fine," Fred drawled, folding his arms behind his head, "I'd be even better if they would just let me go home."

Hermione smiled sympathetically before saying, "Well, keep using those horrid pickup lines on the Healers and they might decide that discharging you would be just the thing to make you well again."

"I have! I have! But, I think they actually enjoy it," he grinned at her, glad that someone new was finally visiting. He observed her for a moment. As a person who loved to bring joy to people, Fred had a talent for determining what they were feeling. It was a kind of emotion-reader that the twins had shared and perfected over the years. Right now his empathic ability was telling him that the girl sitting on his right, despite her smile, was unhappy.

"Fred?" Hermione frowned at his uncharacteristically serious look, "Are you alright?'

The redhead shook himself out of his thoughts and gave her a smile, "Oh, I'm just smashing. How could I not be given my current company?"

Hermione smiled, her cheeks slightly tinged, "Well, you just looked a bit more vacant than usual. That's all."

He gave her a pained look, "You wound me, dear heart. You really do."

"You'll live. You've proven yourself to be impossible to kill. Like a cockroach…or the energizer bunny," she explained with a grin.

"The what?" Fred looked at her in amusement.

"Never mind. It's a muggle mascot for Energizer batteries."

"I'll take a bunny over a cockroach anyway. Particularly for their infamous reputation as avid participants of a certain activity," he raised his eyebrow with a smirk, reveling in his success. Hermione rolled her eyes, blushing. He could no longer detect her unhappiness. Mission accomplished.

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A/N: I love Fred. I really do. I hoped you liked the pre-fluff. Reviews are love.


	5. Oblivious

A/N: Yay! Nice long chapter for all ye loverly reviewers. I love the reviews. Thank you all! Enjoy.

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all except for my small two characters.

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Chapter Four

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George never noticed how, whenever he passed through the hall on the way to see his brother, the Healers would whisper behind their hands, some of the less subtle ones giggling softly. He also never noticed how, whenever he entered the ward in which his brother was staying, Anne would always turn pink before he even opened his mouth. The fact that she sometimes stuttered his name or fumbled with an object in his presence or gave him much more attention than she would another patient's family member also never came to his notice. A casual observer would see that the two were obviously smitten, because the reason George never picked up on these small details was that he was guilty of similar actions, albeit in his own fashion.

Fred's twin didn't notice the mutterings of the Healers, because every time he came through the door he was practicing what he would say as soon as he entered the ward. He never noticed Anne blushing at his presence, because he was too occupied covering up his own redness with jokes and exclamations. He neglected to notice her stuttering because, when he was around her, it seemed he couldn't get his own words out properly never mind hers. To Fred's amusement, and annoyance, they dropped and neglected to catch so many items he was surprised that half of the medical equipment wasn't damaged. Anne's particular attention wasn't noted, because of George's particular attention to her. In short, George Weasley had somehow managed to fall head over heels in love with the pretty, dark-haired, dark-eyed Healer named Anne. And, he wasn't really aware of it.

The oblivious twin, as Fred had taken to calling him in his head, apparated in a good few hours after Hermione arrived, having the sleeping pattern of a normal person, or so he liked to think. At twelve o' clock in the afternoon George Weasley burst through the doors of the Poddlemore Ward, startling Anne so much she accidentally kicked the cage of a soon irate ginger-haired cat.

"Sorry, love, didn't mean to scare you," George said, stumbling over his feet in his haste to lean "casually" on her desk. Anne, her usual rosy shade, merely stuttered that she was fine and not to worry.

"Although, you shouldn't make so much noise. Some of the patients are still sleeping," she reprimanded, abandoning her stutter, as she always did, in defense of her charges. She glared at him, eyes afire, and George was captivated, "I expect you're here to see your dear, demonic brother."

"I heard that!" sailed a voice from room 103. George stared at her in confusion.

He was here, in St. Mungo's, to see…to see…the lovely eyes of…his brother….Wait…What? "Er, yeah, my brother. Right." George hurried quickly away from the flustered witch, his muddled thoughts clearing as he got closer to his brother's room and farther away from her. He thought it very odd that his mind always got a bit foggy when he was in the hospital. Maybe it was all the potion ingredients. He grinned, made sure Anne was turned away, and ran into the room, taking a flying leap onto his brother's bed. Fred gave a great "OOMPH!" as his brother landed haphazardly on his torso, arms and legs flying.

"Hello, brother dear, how goes it?" George said, grinning cheekily up at his winded twin. Fred glared at him for a second before giving him a smug look. George knew why a moment later

"George Weasley!" came Hermione's irate voice from beside the bed, "Your brother's in the hospital for pity's sake! Show some consideration! Honestly," she muttered, amused despite herself. George had jerked around at her voice. She sounded alarmingly like his mum sometimes.

"Hermione," George grinned, still sprawled across his brother, "to what do we owe the pleasure."

"She didn't just get here, dolt. Unlike you, she gets up at a decent hour," Fred said, pushing his twin off the bed. George landed unceremoniously on the floor next to Hermione's chair.

"Hello, George," she said, wearily but with a smile, "Here—" She conjured another guest chair for him to sit on.

"Thanks," he said gratefully, hauling himself off the floor and throwing himself onto the piece of furniture, "So, Hermione, are you just here to visit this month's family invalid?"

Hermione laughed, "Well, yes, but I'm also going to be staying at the Burrow until the start of term." She started playing with the strings on the end of her purple scarf, avoiding Fred's pointed look. He had been trying to find out what had caused her unexpected visit for the better part of an hour. He knew it had something to do with her parents, but she would tell him nothing more about it. He couldn't really blame her. They had never been the closest of confidants, but the curiosity was driving him mad.

"Really?" George raised his eyebrows, "Are your parents up to world traveling again?"

"They're off to the Caribbean in a month," she said evasively. The twins gave each other a look, agreed, and turned their collective gaze on Hermione. Smart lady that she was, she knew what was coming. To the bookworm's intense relief, a knock sounded at the door before the brothers could start their interrogation, and Anne poked her head in.

"Anne! How are you? Is it time for George's sponge bath already?" Fred exclaimed, grinning evilly. George's ear and Anne's checks both turned rosy as they avoided looking at each other. Hermione looked at the blushing pair and turned a shrewd look at Fred. He winked at her and gave a meaningful look in his brother's direction. She raised her eyebrows with a smirk.

Anne walked briskly towards the bed, still slightly pink, "I'm sure G-George is perfectly capable of bathing himself. As to whether you have the mental faculties to do the same, I have my doubts." Hermione giggled at Fred's playfully indignant look, and the Healer gave her a smile, "I absolutely adore your cat. Are you planning on visiting again sometime soon?"

Hermione chuckled at her hopeful look, "I suppose I could spare a few hours a day to visit this miscreant every once in awhile," she gave Fred a teasing smile, "And, I'll make sure to bring Crookshanks along when I do."

"Excellent," Anne grinned happily, not noticing George's unfaltering attention. Fred snickered at his twin's behavior before submitting to the Healer's numerous spells. Anne was surprised at his compliant attitude. Usually he put up quite a fuss when his mother wasn't around. However, Fred was quite content. He had his daily entertainment of his brother's awkward relationship with the Healer as well as Hermione, who had proven herself adept at provoking Fred's playful side. Yes, he was in a very good mood today.

Mrs. Weasley poked her head inside her son's hospital room with caution. As the mother of two very boisterous, very creative pranksters, she had learned early on the safety of wariness. One of the ways she maintained the twin's respect was her habit of rarely being a victim of their pranks. They had gotten her once or twice, but she still had the edge on them. Unnoticed, she smiled at the occupants of the room. Hermione was snorting with laughter at something the twins had said, and both of the brothers were grinning ear to ear— in George's case ear to hole—obviously pleased with themselves.

Molly walked in then and gave George a kiss on the cheek, "Hello, George dear. Have you been here long?"

George grinned at his mother, "Only for about three hours."

"Have I really been gone that long?" she gasped, shocked at how much time had passed.

"That must have been some really good tea, mum," Fred snickered, earning himself a glare.

"Oh hush, Frederick Weasley," she looked Hermione with a smile, "Are you ready to leave dear?" Hermione nodded, "Alright then. George, will you grab her luggage there? I think Anne has her cat as well."

George jumped out of the chair as if he had been bitten, "Righto!" He exited the room quickly, completely forgetting Hermione's miniscule trunk on the Fred's nightstand.  
Fred snickered as Mrs. Weasley sighed, "That boy…I'd best go take this to him." She levitated Hermione's trunk and followed her son out the door.

Hermione rose, smoothing the wrinkles in her corduroy skirt, "Well, Fred, it was nice seeing you."

Fred smiled, "That's it? Nice seeing you? Have a good life? I thought the last few hours meant something more to you," he gave a fake sob, "I guess I was mistaken. GOOODBYE MY LOVE!" Hermione started giggling, "I shall miss you terribly. Even if you didn't give me a sponge bath."

He gave her a wink, and she caught her breath before giving him a tight hug, "Don't worry. I'll be back," she began walking out the door, turning back once to give him an evil grin, "with Umbridge and a nice lufa." She chuckled to herself when she heard his yell of revulsion through the closed door and walked down the hall towards George, Mrs. Weasley, and Anne.

The two women were chatting amicably about first aid spells while George looked somewhere in the distance, every so often sending a glance Anne's way. Hermione smirked. When George had gone to the loo, Fred had told the interested girl all about his brother's disastrous mutual attraction with the Healer. They had been tiptoeing around each other for a week now, and George still had no idea that he was smitten with her. His Holeyness, as Fred sometimes called his twin, only acted this obtuse around women when he was really serious about them. Hermione thought it was the sweetest thing she had ever heard. Mrs. Weasley's voice broke through her thoughts.

"Hermione we're ready to go. George is going to floo home with your luggage, and I'll walk you outside so you can apparate there. The protections are down now, so you can apparate right by the front door," the older woman said with a smile.

"Okay, Mrs. Weasley." Hermione agreed following her out of the ward.

"I'll be back, Anne," Mrs. Weasley called over her shoulder, leading the way down the hall.

"Alright, Molly," Anne's voice drifted back, "Bye, Hermione!"

"Bye, Anne," Hermione called back, fondly. George caught up with them a moment later carrying Crookshanks' cage, his ear bright red. Hermione, though sorely tempted to tease him, decided to let it go for the time being. George was, after all, the temporary keeper of her cat in the Floo Network.

They had almost reached the front when George took a right turn into another hallway, "See you there, Hermione." _Hmm…_she mused…_the fireplaces must be that way._

She continued to follow Mrs. Weasley until they reached the same deserted alley that Hermione had first apparated to earlier that morning.

"Alright, Hermione. Be careful apparating. It can still be dangerous to the most talented witches and wizards. I'll drop by later to check up on you, Ron and Ginny," she gave Hermione a hug, "Oh, and be on the lookout for some muggle piece of junk that Arthur tinkered with. It's called a…oh what was it…a mike-crow wave. Something of that kind. Anyway, it tends to shoot out burritos at unsuspecting passersby." She shook her head wearily, "Just be careful. Are you all set?"

Hermione nodded, "Yes, I'm ready to go. Thank you again, Mrs. Weasley. You're a lifesaver."

The woman waved away the praise with a smile, "It's the least I can do, dear. I'll see you later."

Hermione said goodbye before disapparating with a small _pop_.

She was relieved when the pressure stopped and she could breathe properly again. The view was, as always, completely beautiful. In front of her was the tallest and most crooked house she had ever seen. It looked rickety and unstable, but the atmosphere was suffused with hominess. The yard was strewn with random odds and ends, but the grass was lush and the flowers were vibrant. She turned around and breathed in the scent of the nearby patch of woods that had served the Weasley family so well as a makeshift Quiddich field. The landscape wrapped her in its tranquility, and she felt like she was coming home after a long journey. She dropped off her little cloud nine with a crash. She had a feeling home was going to be a sore subject for a while until she could let her parents' decision go. She quickly shook off her grim train of thought and walked into the house. She was immediately attacked on two sides by two equally exited redheads. Ron clung to her left side while his sister hung on to her right, both hugging her fiercely.

"Hermione!" Ginny laughed, "I'm so glad you're here. You have no idea how boring it gets around here with only Ickle Ronniekins for company."

"Oi!" Ron stopped squeezing Hermione and looked around her to glare at his sister, "I'm right here!"

"Yes," she said simply, which made Hermione collapse onto her, laughing hysterically. Footsteps pounded on the stairs and George joined them in the kitchen.

He looked at the Hermione hanging limply on his sister, "What did Ron do this time?"

Ron turned his indignant gaze on his brother, "I didn't do anything!"

"That's what they all say, Ronnie," George said sadly, shaking his head. Hermione, who was just getting a hold of herself, broke down again, giggling madly.

Ginny patted her friend on the back, a confused grin on her face, "I think she needs some sleep…or food…or both." She led Hermione to the table and helped her sit down before moving around the kitchen, pulling pots and pans out of various nooks and crannies, "Hermione, do you feel like eating anything in particular?"

"W-whatever's e-easiest," she replied through broken giggles. She was rather hungry, and obviously giddy, after spending the day without a single meal. Ron sat down moodily at the chair opposite his best friend and George followed suit, sitting next to the girl who was slowly regaining control of herself.

"Mum's been training Ron and me on the fine art of cooking," Ginny said, grabbing matches from a drawer by the stove, "Unfortunately I don't turn seventeen until August so it's the muggle way for now."

"Gin's been using us as test subjects," George said, smirking, and ducked as his sister threw a dishrag at him, "But, I think she's inherited mum's skills. Ronnie on the other hand…" He trailed off, and Hermione noticed Ron's ears turn red.

"What did you do?" Hermione said amusedly. Ron muttered something undistinguishable.

"Sorry, didn't catch that," Hermione said, leaning forward.

"He set fire to almost every scrap of food he touched," Ginny said, grabbing a couple of eggs from the counter, "How do you like your eggs?"

"Scrambled," Hermione said distractedly, staring at Ron, "You set the food on fire?"

"Blew it up is more like it," Ginny said over the sizzling of the eggs.

"Not on purpose," Ron muttered irritably, unconsciously shredding a leftover napkin, "I just…got a little too overenthusiastic."

George snickered, "That poor pudding never knew what hit it."

"Shut up," Ron continued to look sullen.

Hermione giggled. She had missed him when she was at home. She blushed as she remembered how she had kissed him unabashedly before the last battle had really begun. She had liked him for a while, but she didn't know what had possessed her to act on it that day. She didn't want to blame it on adrenaline, but her logic told her that it had been a big part of the equation. _Now what?_ she wondered, staring at Ron across the table.

He looked up at her and his frown turned up into a smile. Well, they would have plenty of time to find out. A minute later she was feasting happily on delicious scrambled eggs, bacon, and sourdough toast. George was right when he said that his sister had inherited Mrs. Weasley's skills in the kitchen.

"Well, I'm off," George said, grabbing a piece of bacon of Hermione's plate before rising.

"Give Anne my love," Ginny said sweetly but with a devilish smirk.

"Er…right," George said, before giving a last goodbye and disapparating in the front garden.

Hermione looked at Ginny who was shaking her head in amusement, "You can't get any thicker than that."

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A/N: Yay for me? Was that long enough? I didn't want to drag in on too long, but I didn't want to make it short like the others. Hopefully the chapters will remain long. Reviews are love.


	6. Toast

A/N: Yay! New chapter! I'm trying to make the chapters as long as possible. However, I have to warn that, now that I've started college, I might not have as much time as I did before. I don't intend to abandon this story though. I'll try to see it through to the end, because I want to know what happens too. ;;

Disclaimer: Anne and Jack are mine. The rest of the characters belong to one J.K. Rowling.

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Chapter Five

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"Arrgh!" Fred yelled in frustration, waving his arms around in the air. He was so BORED! There were only so many comic books a bloke could read without going absolutely barking mad, and he had reached his limit.

"Did I come at a bad time?" Hermione spoke, poking her head in and looking at him in amusement.

Fred grinned in delight, "Hermione! MY LIFE, MY LOVE, my God…what happened to your hair?" he ended weakly, noticing the crisp ends of her bushy brown locks.

She gave a sigh before entering the room and sitting in the unoccupied guest chair, "I made the unfortunate mistake of taking pity on Ronald and trying to help him cook breakfast. It was just toast, really." She shook her head slowly with such a pathetic look on her face that Fred couldn't help but laugh, "It's not funny!" Hermione gave him an indignant look.

He continued to chuckle, "Oh, it's incredibly funny. Didn't Ginny warn you about Ronnie's cooking skills? Or lack of them, I should say."

Hermione scowled and began to cut the charred edges of her hair with her wand, "Perhaps. But, I thought, maybe he just needed a bit more practice." Her voice trailed away weakly.

"No, he's just hopeless," Fred said, smirking at her. She smiled back after she had finished trimming the last of her hair, "He's not the only one though."

She raised her eyebrows, "Do you blow up toast too?"

"Nah, not me. Bill's the one with incredible ability to shrivel up anything he tries to cook," he gave her wicked smile, "Makes good raisins though."

Hermione giggled before giving him a shrewd look, "So you've cooked a successful meal or two?"

"Of course. I'm one of the best cooks in the family." She looked at him skeptically, "Really! I'm good at cooking spells, but George does better at clean up. Makes the flat arrangement perfect."

"I'd imagine so."

"How about you? Are you a good kitchen witch?" Fred joked, waggling his eyebrows.

"I can cook without magic," she said wryly, "I haven't had much practice with that kind of spellwork."

"Ask mum to show you some and you'll be an expert in no time." Fred leaned back against the stark white pillows, growing more comfortable by the second. With all of the rule-breaking and mischief the twins got into at Hogwarts, Hermione had always been their friendly, yet distant, adversary. Now, sitting there and chatting with her, he was beginning to see why Ron and Harry liked her so much. When she wasn't chasing after someone to finish homework or stressing over her prefect duties or trying to get people to join S.P.E.W., she was surprisingly easy to talk to.

He decided to take a chance, "So, Hermione," he began, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, "Why did you come back to the wizarding world so soon after the defeat of the most evil git known to mankind?" The curiosity had been gnawing at him steadily ever since her first visit a few days ago.

Her expression hardened, "For no reason in particular. I just wanted some space. My parents are leaving soon for the Caribbean anyway."

Fred noticed her shifting eyes and the wringing of her hands with disbelief, "You're lying, Hermione."

She stood up suddenly, "I really must be going. I told Ron and Ginny I'd be back in time for lunch."

"Hermione—" Fred began, but she cut him off.

"Goodbye, Fred. I'll see you later." She practically ran out the door, closing it harder than she intended. His forehead crinkled in a frown before he sighed and picked up a discarded comic book. He should have kept his mouth shut.

Bad Fred.

VVVV

Hermione's day was pretty much ruined. After Fred's unpleasant snooping, Hermione couldn't stop dwelling on the fragile state of her relationship with her parents. She collected her cat from Anne, who looked slightly disappointed that she was leaving so soon, and headed back to the Burrow.

Ron looked up from a comic of his own at the popping sound from out in the garden. He stood and went to the window to investigate. Hermione was standing in the grass staring at her feet and looking absolutely miserable. His brow furrowed in puzzlement. She'd just been to see Fred, and most people would have returned grinning like idiots.

He opened the door and walked towards her cautiously, "Hermione?" She looked up with such a shocked look he began to wonder if he had spoken too loudly.

"Oh, Ron. Hello, I was just going in," she talked in a distant voice, and Ron really began to worry when she almost walked into the door.

"Hermione, are you okay?" Ron asked, looking closely at her expression, while opening the door for her.

She stepped into the kitchen and his question shook her out of her thoughts, "What? Oh, I'm fine, Ron. Why do you ask?" She walked further into the house and took a seat on the living room couch, pulling off her scarf and jacket. With a wave of her wand, they flew into the air and landed perfectly on the coat rack by Mrs. Weasley's old radio.

Ron sat next to her and looked at her worriedly, "You just seemed a bit…distracted…and sad. Are you sure you're okay?" She paused, wide-eyed, to stare at him. Well this was a first. He had never shown any particular talent at emotional observation before.

She searched her mind for an excuse, "I'm fine. It's just that…I miss Harry. We haven't seen him since…Tonks' and Remus' funeral."

A look of understanding crossed his features, "Oh. Well, don't worry about it, Hermione. I'm sure he'll owl soon. Last I heard he was still at Grimmauld place."

"Who's at Grimmauld place?" an interested voice said from the kitchen. Harry appeared in the living room doorway a moment later.

"Harry!" Hermione screamed, jumping up and flying at him. The dark haired boy looked startled for a moment as he caught her before laughing and hugging his sister close.

"Harry," Ron said grinning, "Glad you're back mate. Mum's going to be thrilled."

"Prepare to be fed within an inch of your life," Hermione laughed, her troubles momentarily forgotten. She sometimes forgot how safe he could make her feel just by being there.

"Merlin," Harry groaned, "I hope so. I'm starved." He sat down next to Ron and Hermione joined him, sitting to his right.

"So what have you been up to, Harry?" Ron asked, leaning against the back of the couch.

Harry mimicked Ron and settled against the couch, "Well, after the funeral, I went back to Godric's Hollow. I actually went into my parent's house this time, just for the freedom of it. I found a couple things like pictures of my dad and Sirius and a few personal items. So, I took them back to Grimmauld Place and started cleaning the place up again," he looked at them shyly, "I enjoyed the peace, but I really missed you two."

"What? We're not peaceful?" Ron said loudly, grinning.

"Ron, you're about as peaceful as Aunt Muriel after a barrel of firewhiskey," Ginny spoke, coming slowly down the stairs. She stopped at the entrance to the living room locking eyes with Harry.

After a few moments of silence, in which Ginny and Harry had not budged, Hermione pulled at Ron's arm, "Well, Ron, let's try the toast again. This time I'll use a fire repelling charm." She led him away from the living room, glancing over her shoulder once to see Harry and Ginny walk to each other slowly.

Ron grumbled as he reluctantly took a seat at the kitchen table and pulled a package of bread towards him.

"Okay Ron," Hermione said, casting a protective charm around them both, "Remember that cooking spells are more subtle than regular spells. They don't need as much force. You're making toast not frying a Death Eater." Ron glared at her before taking a deep breath and saying the incantation. The slice of bread before him began to heat, getting crisper and crisper by the second.

"Stop!" Hermione commanded and Ron ended the spell. The toast, perfectly crisp, sat innocently on the table.

"I did it!" Ron crowed, jumping up and pumping his fist in the air. Harry and Ginny walked into the kitchen, holding hands and looking exceptionally content, and sat down.

"Did what?" Harry asked, taking the toast from the table's wooden surface and biting into it.

Ron made a high-pitched noise of disbelief before roaring, "TOAST! YOU ATE MY TOAST!"

Harry looked startled at his friend's outburst, "Er…sorry?" He looked at the packaged bread and took another bite, "There's more slices if you really wanted toast that much." Ginny and Hermione, by this time, were both red-faced from laughing so hard.

"IT'S NOT FUNNY! No one will believe I made toast now that Harry ate the evidence!" Ron still had a look of horror on his face that did nothing to calm his sister and Hermione's hilarity.

"I think I missed something," Harry said, looking worriedly at red-faced friend, and throwing Hermione and Ginny questioning glance.

"Ron has culinary difficulties," Hermione said through her laughter, making Ginny break into a fresh bout of giggles.

Harry, still munching the last bit of toast, continued to look puzzled. Ron finally shut his mouth, groaned, and laid his head on his folded arms in resignation.

Ginny recovered first, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes, "It's alright, Ronny, we still love you." She ignored his death glare and looked lovingly at her reinstated boyfriend. Hermione chuckled once more before explaining Ron's unfortunate cooking pyromania to Harry.

He looked both amused and sheepish when she finished, "Sorry, Ron…I didn't know how much the toast meant to you."

"S'alright. I don't think anyone would have believed me even if I had had the evidence." Ron's voice was slightly was a noise at the door and Mrs. Weasley opened the front door, stepping briskly into the kitchen, "Well, dears, it's about that time. Are you hungr—" She stopped abruptly when she saw the new addition to the kitchen table.

"Hi, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said hesitantly, sitting up straighter in his chair.

"Harry!" the matron cried, running forward to embrace him, "I'm so glad you decided to come back."

Harry grinned, returning the hug with fervor before settling down onto his chair again, "Of course I came back, Mrs. Weasley. I missed you and your wonderful cooking too much to stay away."

Mrs. Weasley chuckled, one hand to her cheek, "I did promise to feed you to within an inch of your life," she narrowed her eyes at him, "Have you been eating properly on your own? You look undernourished, Harry dear."

"You always say that mum," Ron said, raising his head from his folded arms to look at her.

"And I'm usually right," his mother replied, already bustling about the kitchen with the adept efficiency of a master chef.

"Fancy a game of Quiddich before lunch?" Ron asked, rising from the table and heading towards the family broom shed. Ginny stopped to give Harry a roguish grin before following her brother outside.

"Coming Hermione?" Harry asked, pushing his chair back and rising as well.

Hermione stopped to consider her options before speaking, "I'll meet you there. I just need to go upstairs and grab a book." Harry shook his head with a smile before going to retrieve his Firebolt, a small bounce in his step.

"Mrs. Weasley, do you need any help before I go?" Hermione asked, following the matron's progress around the kitchen with amazement.

"I'm fine, dear, don't worry," Mrs. Weasley threw over her shoulder distractedly.

Hermione stopped to admire her spell work. Ron's mother had self-peeling potatoes, two boiling pots of water, and a measuring spell already working around the kitchen and, as Hermione watched, she threw out three more spells in succession. Knives had begun chopping at recently washed carrots when Hermione finally walked into the living room. She stopped at the foot of the winding staircase and looked up at the mountainous steps in front of her before she apparated into Fred and George's room.

Hermione smiled as she shuffled through her books, looking for one that caught her fancy. Harry's visit had indeed been a pleasant surprise, especially after her somewhat unpleasant morning. She had just picked up a copy of _The Mists of Avalon_ when a loud tap on her window made her jump and drop the book. An owl was flapping outside, a roll of parchment attached to its leg.

She hurried to the window, dodging boxes of discarded WWW products and some more of her own books, and threw it open. A familiar looking barn owl landed on the desk just under the window and held out its leg obediently. Hermione untied the letter before directing the owl to the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley would have water and owl treats available. The bird flew off quickly, leaving Hermione free to open the letter. She did so with some confusion, not able to imagine who would be writing to her by owl. Everyone who would have done so was here in the Burrow. Her question was answered as soon as she sat down on her borrowed bed and began to read.

_To my goddess of book learning Hermione,_

_Don't abandon me! I'M SORRY IF I OFFENDED THEE, GREAT GODDESS DIVINE! Please take pity on this poor befuddled mortal with his inane and pitiful curiosity and consent to forgive his numerous transgressions! But, on a less enthusiastic note, I am very sorry that I seem to keep touching on a sore spot of yours. It just goes to show that Ronnie isn't the only insensitive prat in the family. I really am sorry, Hermione, and you can trust that I'll never discuss the subject until you bring it up first._

_FAREWELL GODDESS OF ETERNAL BRAININESS!_

_Your obedient love slave,_

_Fred_

_P.S. They said I could leave the hospital in a few days if I behave myself...in which case you might want to inform mum that this is going to be my permanent residence from now on._

Hermione laughed at the post script before growing quiet and considering his message. She sighed and started rummaging in her trunk for a quill, ink, and parchment. She found a hair tie first and used it to pull her bushy hair into a ponytail. Finding the desired items at last, Hermione settled down onto the desk chair to write.

_Dear Fred,_

_Of course I forgive you. How can I not after all that lavish, if not superfluous, praise? In any case, I'm sorry as well for being so touchy on this particular subject. The reason I'm staying at the Burrow until the start of term is because my parents and I have had a difference of opinions concerning my actions in the war. For their safety, I had modified their memories and moved them to Australia. After Voldemort's defeat, they were returned to normal, which was when the conflict started. They are still absolutely furious with me for not letting them protect me and for modifying their memories without their permission. My parents decided that our separation would help them through their anger better than having me there as a constant reminder of what I'd done. I still don't see that I did anything that didn't need to be done. But, anyway, thank you for your apology, and I'll be in to visit soon. Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back right? _

_With love,_

_Hermione_

_P.S. Does that still mean I have to visit you all the time if you'll be living there?_

She finished the letter with a smile, wiped away her remaining tears, and went downstairs to find an owl. Catharsis was a wonderful thing.

VVV

Fred leaned back against the pillows, watching his brother and Anne do their almost daily awkward dance of unknowing courtship with amusement and a twinge of irritation. They had been at it longer than usual and the sexual tension between them could almost suffocate the man in the hospital bed.

_Just three more days. Just three more days,_ Fred kept thinking to himself and smirked as his twin slipped on the cold tea that Anne had just spilled minutes earlier.

"No, I'm f-f-fine, George. Don't t-trouble yourself," Anne said, drawing out her wand and performing a simple cleaning spell. The cold tea vanished, leaving the floor sparkling clean.

"Hermione!" Fred shouted, catching sight of the witch in the doorway. He had never been happier to see anyone, "Goddess divine, come rescue me from this previously undiscovered circle of hell!" Hermione took one look at the desperate relief on his face, the mess around the room, and the other two equally blushing occupants of the small hospital room before smirking at him.

"Oh, Hermione," Anne said a little breathlessly as she straightened up, "How are you?"

"I'm wonderful, Anne. How about you?" Hermione answered, taking a seat on one of the guest chairs.

"Oh, you know…busy," the healer replied distractedly, rapidly backing away from George. Her face was bright pink.

"Busy cleaning up after me," Fred's twin looked sheepish, "I swear this hospital makes me clumsier than Tonks was."

They all paused at the mention of their friend before Hermione broke the silence, "Crookshanks is behind your desk, Anne, if you want to see him."

Anne smiled brightly and left the room at once, "Kitty!" Hermione looked at the wistful grin on George's face before laughing at Fred's exaggerated imitation.

"So you're being released in a few days, correct?" Hermione asked Fred as his twin sat down in the chair next to hers.

"He will if he stops popping out from doorways and scaring Anne," George said, leaning back comfortably. He gave his brother a mock stern look and shook his finger.

Fred sniggered, "Oh, I've only done it a few times, but she's so easy to scare!"

"Poor Anne," Hermione said with a smile. She turned to George, "It's your job to protect her from your brother's evil ways, you know."

George's eyes widened while his lips twitched into a smile, "I think you're right, Hermione darling." He jumped up and pointed a finger at his twin, "Prepare to be thwarted!"

"Unlikely," Fred countered, crossing his arms and looking smug, "Not only am I the better looking of the two of us, but I'm also cleverer."

"And more modest," Hermione smirked.

George snickered before running out the door and into the hall. Fred and Hermione collapsed in laughter a moment later when they heard him shout, "ANNE! IT IS MY HONOR BOUND DUTY TO PROTECT AND GUARD YOU FROM THE DEVIOUS DASTARDLY DEVLISH DEEDS OF MY EVIL BROTHER. PLEASE ACCEPT MY PROTECTION FOR I AM HOLY AND BETTER LOOKING AND CLEVERER!"

"Merlin," gasped Hermione, clutching her side, "I haven't laughed that hard in ages."

Fred wiped the tears of mirth from his freckled cheeks with a corner of the stark white sheet that covered his bed, "Glad we could be of service." They calmed down after a few more seconds before Fred surprised her by saying quietly, "I think I'm going to miss your visits after I'm out of here." She was too shocked to reply, and after a moment of silence Fred grinned, "Does that mean I'm going to have to injure myself just to stay here? Or does that mean I have to redouble my efforts in annoying Anne so that she finally causes some serious damage with that sharp wand of hers?"

Hermione chuckled, her brain once again functioning, "Don't be daft. Anne might end up hexing you to oblivion, and then I'd never get to visit." She rested her elbows on the edge of the bed and looked at him with a smile, "I suppose, if you're that desperate for my wonderful company, I could come see you at Diagon Alley. I'll have nothing else to do anyway."

He grinned at her, "Brilliant as always, Great Goddess of Bookishness!"

She rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the edges of her mouth from curving into a smile. He began to talk about the latest ideas that the twins had been cooking up. His blue eyes, behind his curtain of flaming red hair, were lit with an excitement that Hermione had never noticed before. They looked alarmingly like Harry's when he was talking about Quidditch and they were a darker blue than Ron's.

_Interesting, _she thought.

"Hellooo! Hermione," Fred drawled, waving his hand in front of her face, "Are you with us, Hermione?"

Hermione shook her head, her brown hair flying, "Sorry, I checked out for a moment. What were you saying?"

He looked at her with astonishment before giving her a sly look, "I know my sexy appearance can be distracting, love, but you must focus."

She glared at him, "If I'm staring at you for too long it's because of that horrible thing on your neck." His eyes widened and he started feeling his neck hurriedly, "Oh, sorry. It's just your head."

He froze, took one look at her twitching mouth, and burst out laughing, "Touché." She laughed along with him until he regained control of himself, "I was saying, why don't you visit next week on Friday? Mum's planning on having a family dinner every Friday night so we can take you back when it's time to eat."

"That sounds wonderful," she smiled before leaning forward eagerly, "By the way, how are things between George and Anne?"

"My my! Gossip, Hermione? I never would have expected it," he grinned as she turned pink.

"Oh shut up," she said, glaring at him, "I'm just a concerned friend inquiring as to the well being of two well-loved people."

"Alright," his tone still playfully dipped in disbelief, "I believe you. Anyway," he rolled his eyes, "It's been going on the same way for a while now. But," he looked to the ceiling, seeming to recall something, "I think they're catching on. SLOWLY, but they're catching on. The trouble is…how are we going to get them to see each other after I escape?"

"Hmm…" Hermione smiled, her mind whirring, "I may have a few ideas."

* * *

A/N: Hope you liked it. Thank you for all the reviews. They make me insanely happy.

In reference to her head insult, I'm not sure where I heard it, but it was in a comedy and I thought it fit well in here. So, if it sounds familiar we probably saw the same thing.

Reviews are love.


	7. Madness

A/N: Hello! It's been awhile hasn't it? I love all you reviewers so much! You make an author so happy. (sobs) Anyway, it's not as long as I hoped, but I think an upload is needed. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to J.K. Rowling, but Anne is mine!

* * *

Chapter Six

* * *

Red, mucky bricks moved and shifted into an archway, the entrance to Diagon Alley. Shops lined the walk, packed like large sardines as far as the eye could see, and the place was buzzing with newfound vigor. People felt safe and more playful than ever as they chatted with familiar neighbors they never thought they would see again.

_We're healing_, Hermione thought as she traversed the alley, noticing a few new shops in place of old shops that had either gone out of business or lost their owners. Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor was still open, now run by a nephew and his new wife, and Ollivander's had finally reopened after the old man had taken some time to recuperate from his long captivity.

She made a stop at Eeylops to pick up some owl treats for Pigwidgeon and noticed a snowy white owl perched in a large silver cage. She paused, wondering if it would be a good idea to give Harry such a vivid reminder of Hedwig so soon. She decided she would wait until Harry bought a new companion of his own volition and continued walking at a leisurely pace.

After a few minutes her goal appeared in sight like an explosion. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was still, and probably would ever be, the most flamboyant shop to sit in Diagon Alley. People who passed still stopped in their tracks to gape at the large collection of swirling, swishing, banging, booming, flipping, flying and generally eye-catching display in England. People never got used to it; particularly since Fred and George told Hermione that they changed the display at least twice a day so that if a person passed more than once, his or her eye would be caught once again.

She couldn't help but be dazzled herself for a few moments as she stared at the display window. The center of attention for the first half of the day seemed to be a barrel of circular objects, about an inch in diameter, coming in all colors. The sign above it was black with flashing pink letters that read:

_**Boyfriend berries and Girlfriend Gum. Need some snogging practice? Try a double!**_

Hermione raised her eyebrows and snapped out of her stupor before stepping into the shop. The noise hit her like a cannon; mostly due to the fact that an actual cannon had launched a large silver ball as big as her head as soon as she entered the shop. It flew through the air and landed neatly in what appeared to be a black hole hovering towards the ceiling of the shop.

"Customer!" yelled a voice from above and George appeared at the top of the winding wooden staircase Hermione assumed led to their flat. He was wearing the shop uniform of deep purple wizard's robes, the sleeves of which he waved around enthusiastically when he saw who gazed up at him, "Hermione! Welcome back to paradise! OY! FRED! HERMIONE'S HERE!" he bellowed over his shoulder. Hermione chuckled as she stared around the shop, still stymied by how much they had managed to squeeze into so small a place. A small pop was the only warning of Fred's intentions before he apparated directly in front of Hermione and pulled her, squeaking in surprise, into a Hagrid-worthy hug.

"Fred," Hermione said, irritated and touched at the same time, "I can't breathe."

He let her go quickly and took a step back, looking only mildly sheepish, "Sorry. Freedom's gotten to me."

She took in his ecstatic expression and exited blue eyes, "I can see that."

He took her by the elbow, steering her to different parts of the shop, showing her new products, reintroducing revised old products and all the while telling her the general ideas of what the twin's had up their sleeves for their upcoming items. George followed, adding his own input until the cannon resounded again, announcing the arrival of another customer. They stopped for a break towards the back of the shop where the twins kept their DADA products.

"We think that we'll still manufacture protective gear even thought the greatest danger is over," he said, conjuring up two chairs for them to rest on, "We're working on developing disposable wands that contain several counter jinxes in the event that the person has no idea what the incantation is."

Hermione smiled, "I think that's a brilliant idea." She looked thoughtful for a moment, "Have you ever thought about protective jewelry? You know, in case witches don't go for the dark cloak and gloves, they can wear a necklace or a ring that will cast a full-body shield charm over them?" He stared at her for a full minute before disapparating with a pop.

Hermione frowned at the empty space that had a millisecond before contained a Fred Weasley, I hope…I couldn't have offended him. Could I?

Just as she was about to run into the hubbub of the shop to apologize, George threw open the purple curtain behind which she was sitting and pulled her into her second Hagrid-worthy hug of the day.

"You ARE a goddess of brilliance and wonder, Hermione!" George shouted, spinning her carefully around the cramped space. Fred appeared a second later, grinning ear to ear and they said simultaneously, "You're hired!"

* * *

I can not believe I agreed to their madness, Hermione thought to herself for perhaps the fifth time. But, they had persuaded her through good arguments and two pairs of puppy eyes, Damn them.

Everything was settled including her wages, hours, and general job description. She would be helping them plot, just a little, as well as participate in maintaining order and checking their charms and spells for any flaws all for a generous hourly fee.

"I can not believe I agreed to their madness," she muttered staring in a horrified manner at the opposite wall, one that contained a large number of Canary Creams, Skiving Snackboxes, and for some reason, a pair of scarlet pumps. She jumped as a large hand fell on her shoulder.

"Believe it love," the hand in question belonged to Fred, "You are officially a Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes employee. And it is NOT madness but sheer brilliance that brought my brother and me to that marvelous idea," she gave him a wry look, "Why we can feel our brains expanding just by being in your presence." He gave her his trademark grin, conjured a fluffy 70s bean bag chair and flopped onto it with graceless abandon. Looking at that chair, brighter orange and furrier than Crookshanks, made her feel slightly ill.

She stared at the ceiling instead and repeated with conviction, "Madness."

Fred sighed dramatically and his eyes hit the pair of pumps, "THERE THEY ARE!" He jumped up and grabbed the shoes, looking slightly manic.

"Er…is there something you'd like to share, Fred?" Hermione asked only half joking at the man holding a pair of heels with something akin to reverence and familiarity.

Fred took quick stock of his predicament before giving her a devious look, "Well, I was hoping I'd get to tell mum first before any friends found out. The thing is, Hermione," he looked down guiltily at the shoes, "George is, every full moon, Madame Renalda the renowned, redheaded salsa dancer from Brazil."

A second passed as Hermione and Fred stared at each other, the pair of red heels between them, before they both collapsed in laughter. They were so loud George strode in a moment later to shut them up. One look at Fred's twin, and the visual of George in a form-fitting silky red gown and heels, sent Hermione and Fred over the edge again. George smiled at the two in confusion, gave them a mock-disapproving look, and cast a silencing charm on the curtains before getting back to work. He would ask about this later.

"Merlin!" Fred gasped, clutching his stomach with one hand and wiping away tears of mirth with the other, "Now I know what George's next Halloween costume will be." Hermione let out another weak string of giggles, giddy and weak-limbed from so much hilarity. Fred lifted the pair of shoes with a last watery smile before transfiguring them into a comfy-looking pair of slippers, "This is what they originally looked like. Best slippers I've ever owned. George keeps stealing them and turning them into random pairs of shoes whenever I do something that drives him mad."

Hermione stared at him, smiling, "You two are so odd."

"You know you love it," Fred countered, standing up with a stretch, "Should I show you the ropes then?"

She nodded, sighed, and with a rueful smirk, followed him into the shop.

* * *

Laughter from the crisp, green lawn outside the Weasley kitchen announced the arrival of Fred, George and Hermione in a high state of amusement. Molly halted her cooking mania to see the three enter the house, the twins settling their hilarity into mere matching evil grins and Hermione quieting her chuckles more by the second.

"Greetings, mum," Fred started clearly sneaking towards the table topped with a king's feast.

"How are you this fine afternoon?" George finished with a smirk, his attention directed at a tray housing a large collection of éclairs.

"No dessert before dinner," Molly said automatically, charming the French pastries to bite if George got too close, "Did you have a nice visit, Hermione?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley, it was wonderful. Diagon Alley has bounced back pretty quickly," Hermione said, eyeing the feast with wonder.

"Oh yes," Molly said distractedly, throwing out her last few cooking spells with fervor.

"Hermione's going to be working for us over the summer," Fred announced, watching as his brother attempted to grab an éclair and getting nipped for the trouble.

"That's nice, dear…What!" Molly spun around to stare at her two sons.

Hermione smiled nervously at the worried look on the matron's face, "They've hired me to do a few things around the shop and also to check their spellwork for errors."

Molly held her dumfounded look for a few seconds more before speaking slowly, "There's no need for that, dear. You're welcome to relax here all summer. There's no need to expose yourself to Merlin knows what at that madhouse of my sons'."

"Er, thank you Mrs. Weasley, but I'm sure I'm going to want to keep myself busy to keep my mind off of…well, just for the sake of doing something." George looked at Fred questioningly, but his twin gave the tiniest shake of his head.

Molly gave her an understanding smile, but still shook her head ruefully, "I'll make sure to teach you a few healing spells. You'll need them."

She gave a mournful sigh and Fred squawked indignantly, "She's not getting a death sentence, mum!"

George nodded vehemently in agreement, "Yeah, Verity's still with us isn't she?"

Molly gave them a shrewd look over her shoulder, "And how many times has she been to St. Mungo's over the course of her stay there?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the twin's silence, "I'd like to know the answer to that myself."

Fred gave her a weak grin, "She's just had a couple…few…dozen incidences where…one or two Mediwizards may have been involved…" He trailed off and George took over.

"But they were small, nearly insignificant, barely painful incidences…" He looked at his twin with a worried expression, "We should probably think about upping our employees' insurance."

Hermione and Molly looked at each other and sighed in unison as Fred seemed to consider the novel idea thoughtfully. The matron looked at the occupants of the kitchen with a mother's attention to detail and suggested they all wash up before dinner. Fred and George gave a salute to their mother, a wink and a wave to Hermione, and disapparated on the spot. Hermione left the kitchen a moment later, deciding to take the stairs. Her train of thought ran along the lines of staying fit. For, in her line of work, one could never tell when an extra burst of speed could take her out of harm's ridiculous way.

* * *

A/N: Hope you liked it! Reviews are love. 3


	8. Operation Cupid

A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry this update took so long. Finals were a bitca. I hope you enjoy it.

OH! Sorry, I had to add that this chapter was beta read by Lament of Meow. She was very disgruntled when I neglected to cite her. Pfft. Whatever. Just kidding. She's my best friend so I like to give her a hard time. I'M SORRY MEOW! CREDIT TO YOU!

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to the richest woman in Britain, J.K. Rowling.

* * *

Chapter Seven

* * *

Hermione had just put on a fresh lavender blouse when she heard some considerable noise downstairs. She looked at her hair in a small green compact and wondered which of the Weasley men had arrived before grabbing a brush off the bed. She was working it through some particularly stubborn tangles when a knock sounded on the door.

"Come in," she said and Ron entered.

"Charlie, Bill and Fleur are here. Mum wanted you to know that dinner's nearly ready and we'll be eating as soon as Dad and Percy get here," he said, rocking back and forth on his heels with one hand on the doorknob.

"What about Anne?" Hermione asked, putting the brush down.

"Anne?" he tilted his head, looking confused.

"Didn't Fred tell you about Operation Cupid?" she asked, grinning.

Ron walked into the room and threw himself on the bed opposite her, "Nah. What's it about?"

Hermione leaned forward with an eager smile, "Well, you know George and Anne are mad about each other, but after Fred recovered George had no reason to visit the hospital anymore. So, Fred and I came up with a brilliant plan to throw them back together again."

"George fancies Anne?" Ron said, clearly surprised.

She rolled her eyes, "Honestly, Ron, they can't be in the same room with each other without losing a considerable amount of dignity."

He shrugged and grinned sheepishly, "You of all people know how oblivious I can be."

She stared at him before blushing and continuing on, "Our plan was to make sure your mum invited her to every family dinner so that they _have_ to see each other on a weekly basis."

Ron chuckled, "I never pictured Fred and you as matchmakers."

She shook her brush at him, "They'd better give us our due at the wedding reception."

Ron grimaced, "With any luck it will be a very long engagement. I don't fancy another circus so soon after the last one."

Hermione smirked, "You may be right, but it was fun while it lasted."

He stood up with a stretch and Hermione thought he might have grown another two inches since he walked in the door, "The party was fun, but working for mum was a ruddy nightmare. Speaking of which, I have to help in the kitchen. See you downstairs." He gave her a grin before letting himself out. Hermione could hear his loud progress down the stairs even through the thickness of the door. She chuckled quietly to herself before tucking her wand into her jeans and heading downstairs as well.

The noise increased dramatically as her altitude decreased. She could hear Fred and George joking about something and loud laughter, belonging to Bill or Charlie, rang out in response. She finally came into view of the living room where most of the Weasley family was gathered and gave a sad smile. They were all tangibly happy, and it made her terribly homesick for a fleeting moment. Another moment and she missed her footing on the last step, slipping and landing unceremoniously among the company of redheads.

There was a general outburst of laughter and Hermione turned bright red as she tried to brush her hair out of her face. Charlie, who was closest, helped her up with a grin.

"Graceful," he commented, giving her a wink. She muttered her thanks, glaring playfully, and brushed herself off.

"And I got it on film!" Fred crowed, waving a camera that looked similar to Colin Creevy's.

"No!" Hermione shouted, covering her mouth in horror.

"Yes!" Fred answered, cackling madly, "It'll be your employee of the month photo."

"Excellent," Harry said, giving her an impudent grin from the sofa. Ginny, sitting next to him, laughed. "But what's that about employee of the month?"

"Hermione's working for us over the summer," George said, grabbing the camera from Fred and snapping another picture of his mildly irate employee.

Bill affected a look of horror, "Why sacrifice Hermione when Ron would make a perfectly good worker? If we lose him, mum still has six more."

"Hey!" Ron squeaked indignantly from the kitchen, "I heard that!"

Everyone laughed again, Hermione included. She really did love these people.

"Arthur! You're right on time for once. Hello, Percy dear," Molly's voice sailed over the noise in the living room, "Bill, Charlie, did you fix the tables?"

"Yes mum," both spoke obediently in unison.

"Fred, George, did you set the silverware?"

"Yes mum!" the twins said, saluting the kitchen.

"Alright then. Ron, Ginny, help me carry the food out."

Ginny sighed, but pulled herself off the couch and headed to the kitchen.

Harry caught Hermione's eye and they both grinned. She took Ginny's spot by Harry and enjoyed the company for a few more minutes until Molly spoke from outside.

"Dinner's ready!"

"Now, one more guest is coming, but she said she'd be a bit late and to start without her," Molly said, looking around at her family with a fond smile. She felt so happy today that she thought she might burst with the feeling. Her family was here, safe, and about to eat a delicious home-cooked masterpiece—if she did say so herself.

Her husband, sitting across from her with a content air and helping himself to some pot roast, seemed to be the only one to hear her, "Who's coming, dear?"

Molly slapped a glob of mashed potatoes onto her plate next to her roast beef, "Anne said she'd come. I thought inviting her to dinner would be the least I could do after what she's done for us."

"She's a sweet girl," Arthur agreed, making a noise of appreciation when the roast hit his taste buds.

"Ron, stop hogging the potatoes!" Ginny scolded from down the table, as her brother piled the roast tubers onto his plate with gusto. She caught Fred's eye and fell silent when he gave her a wink before going back to watching his younger brother.

"There's still one left," Ron grinned, offering her the last potato—small, scraggly and slightly mashed.

She glared at him and ignored his offer before taking Hermione's presented plate of green beans. Ron shrugged and stuffed a whole red potato into his mouth. George looked to his left at his twin and they both sported identical evil grins as Ron continued to shovel the vegetables into his mouth. A second later, Ginny cackled as words slowly appeared on Ron's forehead. A purple-inked scrawl spelled out a succession of insults a millimeter above his eyebrows like a living billboard. _Git_, _Prat_, and _Tosser_ shone out like an advertisement, making those who could see it snort with laughter.

"What's so funny?" Ron demanded, finally noticing that the people across him—Fred, George, Charlie and Harry—were staring at him, doubled over with hilarity.

Hermione, engaged in conversation with Fleur, didn't notice the prank until she looked to Ron for answer to a question and nearly spit out her pumpkin juice. She fought the urge to giggle as she pulled out her compact and gave it to Ron.

He stared at himself in disbelief before glaring daggers at the twins and hissing, "Fix it."

"Sorry, Ronnie," George laughed.

"Doesn't wear off for twenty-four hours," finished Fred, receiving an appreciative slap on the back from Charlie.

"Give me the camera," Harry asked Fred, holding out his hands.

"Harry, no," Ron moaned, smoothing his bangs fruitlessly in front of the bright purple letters.

"Alright, alright," Harry relented after Hermione gave him a narrow-eyed look, "But I think it's rather fetching."

"I agree. Purple's definitely your color," Ginny smiled, grabbing a plate of hot dinner rolls.

"Still causing trouble I see," a voice said from the gate. Anne had just entered, carrying a glass bottle wrapped with a pretty, red bow. Molly greeted her with a hug and she handed over the bottle saying, "I hope you like elf-made wine."

"Thank you, dear. You didn't have to bring anything," the matriarch laughed, directing her to the only empty chair at the table—to the right of Ron and directly across from George, who managed to look ecstatic, horror-stricken and nonchalant all in the space of three seconds.

"H-Hello everyone," Anne stuttered, turning slightly pink under George's gaze.

"It's good to see you, Anne," Hermione said fondly around Ron, who was still moodily flattening his hair over his forehead.

"You too, Hermione." The Healer spoke more easily now that she wasn't looking at the one-eared twin, and she gave Ron an amused look, shaking her dark head, "How're you feeling, Fred?"

Fred grinned and swallowed a mouthful of bread, "Fantastic, Anne darling. I think George is feeling a bit under the weather, though. You might want to take a look at him after dinner." George looked at his brother confusedly.

"You do look a bit pale," Hermione agreed, nodding soberly.

"I never get sick," George argued, blushing red under Anne's close scrutiny.

The Healer finished her inspection and took a bite of her dinner, "Maybe, but I'll still take a look at you just in case."

"He's due for a physical, too," Fred added as if it was an afterthought, and Hermione and Ginny suppressed giggles while George kicked his twin under the table.

"I suppose I'll have to see to that, too." Hermione looked delightedly at Anne, who looked both shocked and pleased at her own bravado.

Fred had to stuff a roll into his mouth to keep from cackling at his twin, who was bright red but grinning.

The dinner continued long into the night and everyone enjoyed themselves immensely, quite stuffed by the end of the feast. For dessert, Molly had created a masterpiece of chocolate that had the whole lot asking for seconds.

Fred winked at Hermione and threw a quick glance at his brother. She looked over and noted happily that he and Anne were immersed in conversation and only knocked over a couple of dishes and a stray cup every once in a while.

* * *

A/N: Reviews are love.


	9. First Day

A/N: AHH! New chapter! I'm so sorry it took so long my wonderful, lovely, fantastic, amazing reviewers! You all make me so happy. I tried to make it as long as possible. I hate how fanfiction turns 10+ pages of chapter and makes it about five inches of text. I have more time to write during the summer, so hopefully I can squeeze in a few more chapters before Fall classes start. YAY! Thank you again for your reviews. This was beta'd by my best friend LamentofMeow, who doesn't understand my literary quirks. Kidding. She's brilliant.

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the world. I own nothing. Okay, I own socks.

* * *

Chapter Eight

**

* * *

**

It was 10 o'clock Saturday morning at the small, round wooden breakfast table Molly had given the twins as a house warming present when George had his epiphany.

Fred looked up from his cup of English Breakfast at the hacking sound his brother was making, "You know mate, it's a hard concept to grasp, I know, but it's a good idea for people to _not_ inhale their cereal."

George's blue eyes were wide and unbelieving as he completely ignored his brother's teasing and rasped out, "I like her."

A few seconds of silence passed as Fred questioned his twin's sanity before he grinned in understanding, "It took you ages to figure it out!"

"I like her a lot," George wheezed, mechanically scooping another spoonful of Cauldron Crunch into his mouth. Fred took a quick gulp of his tea, looking at his twin over the rim of his mug with amusement. "She's perfect."

"Apart from her strange taste in men, I'd have to agree."

George gave his brother a horrified look, "Why? She has a boyfriend? You've seen him? Who is he?"

"Whoa! Merlin's pants, calm down! I meant you, you git." Fred shook his head and stood up to place his empty cup in the sink. George visibly sagged with relief and continued eating his cereal, looking thoughtfully at the opposite wall. "So the question now is, 'What are you going to do about it?'"

George looked at his twin and grinned cheekily, "Why, sweep her off her feet of course."

Fred leaned against the counter and folded his arms over his chest with a sigh, "Well, Hermione will be disappointed."

George looked stymied, "Why?"

"She was hoping it would take at least another couple of family dinners for you to finally pick up on the truth. She thinks your painfully awkward courtship is amusing…or did she say adorable?" Fred looked up at the kitchen ceiling, trying to uproot her exact words from the confines of his memory.

George's ear turned bright red, "Am I really the last person to figure this out? I _am _supposed to be the cleverer one." He finished the last of his milk and stood up to wash his bowl and Fred's mug with a swift flick of his wand.

"The very last—apart from maybe Anne herself. You two are so completely oblivious you _have_ to have been made for each other. You're a lucky man my friend. Don't muck it up." The last part was said with a grin as Fred shoved his brother playfully and went to change into his work clothes. George walked to the window and looked out onto a bustling street, seeing all the signs he had overlooked in the past few weeks. They both really were oblivious. He chuckled at himself and followed his brother's example.

* * *

"So, when do you start working at Fred and George's shop?" Ron asked distractedly, searching with keen eyes for the potato-shaped faces of garden gnomes in the front yard.

"Monday morning," Hermione answered breathlessly, having just flung a small female gnome over the fence and into the field beyond. The creature had sailed with a squeal a good 20 feet before landing with a dull thud.

"Think you can sneak me out a couple of old products?" he grunted, shooting his hand out to snag another brown creature from underneath a rosebush. The small gnome dodged his grasping digits and dove into the nearest hole in the ground with a loud cackle.

Her face was caught between amusement at the scene and disapproval of his question, "Of course not, Ronald. If Fred and George trust me enough to work at their pride and joy of a shop I'm not about to betray them to steal you a few baubles."

"I know, I just thought I'd try," he grinned at her before seeking out a new victim. She rolled her eyes and smiled, before her eyes beheld the mother of all garden gnomes peeking from behind the thorny branches of a rosebush.

"Got you," she muttered progressing at a slow pace towards the enormously fat creature. The gnome's eyes gleamed as it watched her approach, not moving a muscle—which probably should have warned her. Hermione was two feet from the rosebush when she pounced, her hands automatically forming the shape best suited for disarming a garden gnome.

When she was young, Hermione's father had tried to introduce her to sports. She was a brilliant strategist, but when it came to execution, she hesitated. Her father always told her to keep her eye on the ball and never blink, but every time a football sailed towards her she flinched and shut her eyes.

She did the exact same thing when catching gnomes, and this tricky little bugger knew a wincer on sight. As soon as her eyes squinted shut the gnome attacked, sinking its miniscule white teeth into the tender flesh between the thumb and index finger of her left hand. Hermione shrieked and shook her arm rapidly in an attempt to get it off.

Ron looked over at her scream and was momentarily distracted by the enormous garden gnome flying up and down and in circles, attached to Hermione's reddening hand. "Stop moving, Hermione! I'll stun it." It took a second for his words to sink in past the pain shooting from her hand to her shoulder, but she ceased flailing and held out her gnome-decorated hand.

Ron pointed his wand carefully at the determined gnome and fired, "_Stupefy_!" It went instantly limp but still miraculously hung on by its jaws. Hermione's eyes began to water and she blinked rapidly, trying to pry the little creature's mouth open with her free hand. "Here," Ron stepped forward and pulled her to a seat on the grass, taking the gnome-hand into his lap. With a few tugs and a muscle relaxant spell from Hermione's arsenal, the tiny devil was detached and launched a mighty 50 feet into the adjoining field.

"_Episkey_," Ron muttered and Hermione's hand felt hot then cold then completely pain free. She breathed a sigh of relief and mentally cursed the gnome queen in language even the twins would blush to hear, before she realized that Ron still had her hand in both of his. She looked up at him in surprise. His grip was tight, almost painfully so, and his skin was clammy against hers. Before she could figure out what these symptoms implied he swooped into her personal space and kissed her. A noise somewhere between a squeak and a growl escaped her. The dim thought, _finally_, slithered its way across her brain and she grinned into the kiss, responding enthusiastically.

They spent a few blissful minutes in their own private sphere before Ginny came out to tell them lunch was ready. Hand in hand, followed by Ginny's taunts, they walked inside.

* * *

Hermione jumped at the sound of the cannon blast as she walked into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes on Monday morning, and wondered whether her forgetfulness of the eccentricity was a good sign.

"She's here!" a voice yelled from the back room and George followed his bellow through the curtains a second later. "Pfft. Hermione, you're on time. Minus five Weasley points for punctuality! What kind of operation do you think we're running here?"

Her jaw dropped indignantly, "You _told_ me to be here at eight o' clock!"

Fred suddenly appeared beside her with a POP, making her jump for the second time, "Eight o' clock _Weasley_ time, luv. We don't open for another hour—"

"—which means we'll be able to take you to breakfast—"

"—since we're sure you didn't eat a scrap because you were too nervous—"

"—and exited—"

"—and anticipatory—"

"—and exhilarated—"

"—and antsy—"

"—and—"

"—and let's go to breakfast," Hermione interrupted George, getting a little dizzy. Both of them looked away from each other to the employee they had almost forgotten was there, and both sprouted wide identical grins, "Excellent."

* * *

Hermione spent her first day at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes getting acquainted. She got acquainted with the basic layout of the store, she got acquainted with the numerous and inventive products, she got acquainted with the vast numbers of customers flooding in and out the door and she got acquainted with the business sides of Fred and George.

They didn't change much when the doors opened at nine o' clock, but Hermione could see that they knew how to run a business. They were both friendly and entertaining while being persuasive and observant. If a woman came in looking for a present for her son's birthday, Fred took the haggard look off her face with a few charming jokes before directing her to a corner containing the perfect gift. If a small boy came in with mischief on the brain, George would have the little trickster glowing with excitement before directing him to the Perfect Prank selections. While Hermione managed the cash register, she watched the twins work their magic on the crowd—drawing laughter, preventing accidents, clearly having a good time—and surprised herself when she felt a little bite of envy. Fred sent another customer over to Hermione, caught her eye and winked. She shook off the negative emotion, feeling a little foolish, and gave the customer a genuine smile.

At twelve o' clock sharp the twins closed the shop for lunch. They told her the only schedule they obeyed completely was their stomachs', and she didn't doubt it. She'd seen them eat on countless occasions. Her stomach gave a loud, unhappy growl and she scowled when Fred snickered.

"I didn't think goddesses of endless braininess ever got hungry," he said, jumping up to sit on the counter.

A few boxes and small items fell onto the floor from the movement, and Hermione rolled her eyes, "Shows what you know."

George came out of the back room with an armful of Skiving Snackboxes, "As soon as these are restocked, we can invade the Burrow for lunch and beg my mother for bread crusts or we can invade our flat and force Forge to cook for our culinary whims."

Fred pouted, "I like plan A."

"Bread crusts or Fred-slavery…hmm," Hermione held her hands up and pretended to weigh the options.

"Plan B it is!" George crowed, shoving the last Snackbox onto the shelf.

Fred shook his head at Hermione, looking hurt, "All my devotion and you're still so cruel."

She smiled.

* * *

The doors closed for the night at eight o' clock, and Hermione was both exhausted and giddy. After lunch, George had replaced her at the cash register and Fred had hauled her around the shop, introducing her to people and helping her get into the swing of things. As the brightest student of her age she was a quick study, and now she could name every product on the shelf and in the back, what it was for, how it worked and which customers favored them.

She trudged slowly into the back room where the twins were lounging on a couple of fluffy , green bean bag chairs. As she stepped through the curtain, Fred looked up and conjured a third chair for her to collapse on, which she did with a grateful smile.

"As first days go, what do you reckon?" George asked, not opening his eyes.

Hermione mulled it over for a moment, "Well, I'm so exhausted I think I could sleep through one of your firework shows, I'm hungry enough to eat some of Hagrid's pastries and my feet are so swollen I'm not sure I'll be able to take of my trainers."

Fred grinned, "So it was a good day then?"

"Very."

George cracked an eye open, "And you'll be back tomorrow?"

"I suppose."

"You should get back to the Burrow so mum can force feed you chicken," Fred yawned.

"And roast potatoes," George added.

"And bangers."

"And Yorkshire pudding."

"And éclairs."

"And—on second thought," George stood up, "We'll go with you."

* * *

A/N: Reviews are love.


	10. Tingles

**A/N: **Hellooo! Yay for new chapters. I've started classes again, which mean chapters might be far and few between, but I've got the story all mapped out IN MY MIND. It's a bit short, but Microsoft Word documents make everything look bigger *waggles eyebrows*. Anyway, enjoy!

Disclaimer: Just playing in Rowling's sandbox.

* * *

Chapter Nine

* * *

Hermione slept like the dead for three weeks. Her day started with eating breakfast with the twins or the current residents of the Burrow, then she worked for nine hours, coming back in the evening feeling rag-dollish and giddy. She ate her dinners with half-lidded eyes—almost nodding off over dessert for the first couple of days—before trudging up the stairs to her small but welcoming bed.

Friday morning, although it was grey and rainy outside, felt like one of the most wonderful gifts, Hermione thought to herself as she pulled on her WWW uniform with sleepy sluggishness. One more day before the weekend glided seamlessly into her life, giving her some time to herself and away from the shop's small children, peevish parents and guffawing teenagers. It was exhausting as much as it was entertaining, but despite her lack of energy this week, Hermione found she would be looking forward to going back on Monday.

She stepped out of her room and made her way down the stairs to the kitchen. Harry and Ginny were talking quietly on one side of the table, and Ron was sitting in the middle facing away from where she stood in the doorway. His shoulders were stiff and hunched, and she didn't have to see his face to know he was still angry about the argument they had had after dinner last night. Just thinking about it irritated her all over again. She greeted Harry and Ginny with a 'Good morning' and ignored Ron completely, grabbing a lukewarm slice of toast from the plate in the middle of the table.

A frigid silence ensued.

Harry looked at his best friends in fond exasperation. He'd seen the signs before and fervently hoped their mutual stubbornness wouldn't persist beyond a few hours; he knew better than anyone how long their silences could last and how vindictive each could be. A sigh worked its way from his mouth, but he smiled the next moment at Ginny's face, which she had scrunched up in an eerily accurate imitation of her brother's petulant scowl. Hermione pushed away her uneaten toast and made her goodbyes to Harry and Ginny.

Ginny rolled her eyes as her brother slumped over his eggs, his head resting on his left arm. Ron glowered at his breakfast like it was the center of all things evil.

"Keep up the x-ray stare and you might actually reheat them," Harry suggested, pushing his own empty plate away.

Ron stopped glaring enough to look confused, "Who's ex-Ray?"

"Never mind. " Harry leaned back in his chair and stretched before giving his best friend a long, unsmiling stare. Ron squirmed under his scrutiny and nervously started shoveling eggs into his mouth.

"You know you're being a prat." It wasn't a question. Ron flushed red, but remained resolutely silent.

Ginny snorted, "Grow up, Ron. You basically told her she wasn't paying enough attention to you—even though she's so tired by the time she gets home every day that she can barely pay attention to herself." Ron winced. "Who wouldn't let you have it?"

"She doesn't have to work there. If she's so exhausted, why doesn't she quit?"

Ginny laughed, "Because she likes it! She also doesn't _have_ to put up with you!"

"I'm her boyfriend!" Ron shouted, springing to his feet.

"Well it looks like you're doing a sorry job of it." Harry didn't raise his voice, but both Weasleys fell silent. His friend lowered his gaze to the floor and shuffled out the kitchen door, mumbling something like 'I'm going flying' over his shoulder. Harry sighed and looked at Ginny helplessly.

She shrugged and said simply, "He didn't deny it."

* * *

Fred looked up from his IDEA! Notebook at Hermione's entrance and immediately put down his quill, bounded over to the front, grabbed her wrist and dragged her into the back room.

"What's wrong?" he asked as soon as she was pushed into one of Fred's patented beanbag chairs.

Hermione's eye twitched as she glared up at the redhead, "What makes you think something's wrong?"

He raised his eyebrows, "I know you've only been working here for three weeks, love, but you haven't really made it a regular habit of peppering your Friday morning entrances with loud mutters about disembowelments." He smiled at her and was pleased to see the ends of her mouth turn up a fraction. She sighed and waved him into the other chair. A few moments of silence passed, but Fred waited patiently for Hermione to speak, not harboring a doubt that it would happen.

"Ron and I had a disagreement," Hermione mumbled, looking pointedly at her short, unpolished fingernails.

He smiled humorlessly, "You mean _he_ had a disagreement and you got dragged into it." She looked up at him and he knew he was right.

"I'm opening up the shop!" George voice bellowed from the other side of the curtains, and Hermione shook herself mentally. She stood up, intending to take her place behind the cash register, when Fred grabbed her hand.

"Will you be okay?" he asked, all seriousness and freckles.

"I'll be fine." She grinned, "I won't even take it out on the customers or anything." This shocked a laugh out of him, but Hermione could tell he was still worried. It was sweet. "Thanks, Fred." Without thinking, she bent forward and kissed his cheek. His eyes widened, but before he could say anything she gave him a nervous smile and hurried to the main part of the shop.

The curtains fell back into place, and Fred stared at them for a moment. Laughter drifted from the front, and the volume of voices heightened with each customer entrance. His brain felt fizzy and blank and his cheek was turning a dusky rose color where her lips had touched it.

"Oy! No sampling the snackboxes!" George's voice was closer this time, making Fred jump. He laughed at himself and stepped through the curtains. What was he getting all flustered for? It was only Hermione for Merlin's sake. But as he passed the counter where she was showing an avidly interested witch how to use a ball and cup Muggle magic trick, his spine tingled just a little.

* * *

**A/N: **Until next time, reviews are love.


	11. All Nighter

A/N:I'm so sorry I'm late! I tried to make this extra long to make up for my extended absence. Don't worry, it's not abandoned. I know where the story is going even if I need prodding to actually get it on paper. I've actually gone through a barrage of different fandoms before ending up back in the HP verse. It went Doctor Who - Dead Like Me - Alice in Wonderland - Syfy's Alice - Criminal Minds - Firefly - Harry Potter. Strange business, but once I got started writing it was kind of hard to stop. I'm starting to get back into Supernatural now, but that shouldn't deter me from continuing to write for this verse. Hopefully I haven't lost all of you wonderful readers. You rock my socks for reading and reviewing. This was beta'd by the patient and mad Lament of Meow. Also I'm sorry for the numerous, drabble-like scenes. You could transfer it to document and it looks much better. Gorram fanfiction format!

Update: I am SO sorry for the typos. I swear to the PTB they weren't in the document. *glares suspiciously at fanfiction*

Disclaimer: Just playing in Rowling's sandbox.

* * *

Chapter Ten

* * *

"No, look—you got the character sequence wrong. Not by much, mind you, but _this_ goes _there—_and it ends up looking like—_voila_!" Hermione's eagle quill skated across the parchment and performed an eloquent flourish before being placed back in the spotted inkwell.

Fred studied the mixture of Tranfiguration circles and Arithmancy symbols with growing appreciation, "This is brilliant, Hermione."

She smiled, "It's a complicated bit of magic, but it should be able to adapt itself to protect people from any kind of simple, dark spells." She stretched contentedly, working the stiff muscles in her back into compliance, and looked out the window. "What time is it?"

"Two."

She let out an indignant squawk, "In the morning!"

"Well, at least on this side of the planet." He met her glare with an innocent, wide-eyed smile.

"Why didn't you say something sooner? I missed dinner! Your mother's probably worried sick." Hermione muttered the last to herself, straightening up the various pieces of scribbled-on parchment strewn around the twin's flat. Then she noticed she was in the twin's flat. "When did we move up here?"

Fred smiled at her bewildered expression, "Right around seven when you were working on the fourth transfiguration diagram. Which is after I offered to make you a sandwich for dinner since you had no intention of leaving the shop until you were done. Which was followed by a brief floo conversation with my mum informing her of your scarily single-minded work ethic and when she may expect you back." Hermione stared at him, her cheeks turning pink as she began to remember their earlier conversation.

"Really?" Her voice squeaked a little and Fred couldn't hold in his laughter any longer. She defaulted to irritation, "Why didn't you kick me out earlier? Now I've taken up your whole evening and we only have a few hours before having to open the shop again!"

He stopped laughing and stared at her in disbelief, "_You've _taken up _my _whole evening? You just spent hours working up a brilliant formula to back up one of my mad ideas after your shift ended ages ago and you could have been doing mysterious, genius goddessy things at home!" His voice rose until he was almost shouting, and his face was flushing hot. Hermione was shocked not only by the intensity of his reaction but by the simple thoughtfulness behind his indignation.

She couldn't help herself—she giggled. Fred paused at the sound, looking at her trying to stifle her hilarity behind her hands, and let out a breathless chuckle. "Come on." He stood up, grabbed her hand and started pulling her along behind him.

"When I said 'kick me out' I didn't mean right this second," she joked as they descended into the darkened shop.

He rolled is eyes and kept tugging her forward, "What nonsense! You can't kick a goddess out. Have you ever walked around Diagon Alley at night?"

She frowned, "No, everything's closed."

"Exactly. It's completely deserted." He led her out of the shop, locking the door behind him with a flick of his wand.

There wasn't a soul in sight in either direction and all of the shop windows were dark. Hermione thought it would've been creepy if it weren't for the intense glow of the nearly full moon behind sparse cloud cover. She stared up for a moment at the constellations she recognized from Astronomy class before following the tug on her hand, still held warmly in Fred's.

"Where are we going?"

"Must we have a destination?" He set the pace at a leisurely walk, letting go of her hand and shoving his own in his pocket.

She narrowed her eyes, "I suppose not, but do you realize we could be trying to sleep?"

Fred scoffed, "Sleep! I once went a week without sleeping and I was fine."

"If I recall correctly, that was the morning you nearly drowned in your cereal, right?" She raised her eyebrows with a grin.

"_Nearly_ drowned." He smiled when she laughed. "Besides, I thought since we're opening up in a few hours anyway, we might as well skip that boring sleeping bit and keep each other company." Hermione looked at him sharply, wondering if the innuendo was intentional. When he didn't show any awareness of his double entendre, she shook herself mentally, blaming the late hour for both her gutter-mind and her burning cheeks.

"So do you often sneak around Diagon Alley at night?"

Fred gave her a look of mock indignation, "I don't _sneak_…I meander."

"Ah. Well, do you often _meander_ sneakily around Diagon Alley at night?"

He inhaled deeply as they passed Fortescue's, able to detect the scents of waffles and ice cream that hung around the closed shop like a ghost, "I do." He looked at her and smiled as she seemed to scrutinize him. "Don't believe me?"

"It just seems…uncharacteristically quiet of you to be wandering streets, under the stars. Uncharacteristically romantic," Hermione teased, staring up again at the sky and missing his look of incredulity. He didn't know why, but her assumptions about him stung a little.

Impulsively Fred caught her hand and used her momentum to pull her into him, placing his other hand on her waist and starting a waltz around the empty alley. She was shocked to find herself dancing with Fred, the same waltz Professor McGonagall had taught them for the Yule Ball. There was no music, no sound apart from the noise their feet made as they shuffled over the cobblestones. Neither of them spoke and Hermione observed this was the longest period of silence they had ever shared. She also noticed how fast her heart was beating and wondered dazedly if he could feel it, too.

They finished the dance and stood still, his left hand in her right and his other still on her waist. He hesitated for a split second before leaning in to whisper, "You should try studying people as closely as you do your books." Fred felt her wince and let her go.

Hermione felt vaguely ashamed of herself. She could barely look at him, but she forced herself to meet his eyes, "You're right. I'm sorry, Fred. That was very careless of me."

Fred waved away the apology with a smile, "It's not the first time assumptions have been made. Besides which, we were never very close at Hogwarts were we?"

She shook her head, "We never were. But we are now, so there's no excuse for my gross miscalculation of the depth of your character. You're very quiet and very swoon-worthy." Hermione smiled at him in apology, and he laughed.

"I'm glad you noticed." They began to walk again, this time the silence enjoyable. A few moments passed before he asked, "Swoon-worthy?"

* * *

"And where were you last night, brother dearest?" Fred grinned across the table at George.

"You're glowing," Hermione added sweetly, trying quite unsuccessfully to protect her last kipper from Fred's venturing fork.

All three of them sat in The Leaky Cauldron sharing a quick breakfast before opening up shop. Hermione and Fred had stayed awake all night walking around Diagon Alley and talking about anything that came to mind. Both of them were sporting tired eyes but were still somehow buzzing with pent up energy.

This didn't go unnoticed by George, despite his comfortable position on cloud nine, "A gentleman never kisses and tells, Gred."

Fred raised his eyebrows, "Then answer my question, Forge." Hermione snickered.

"Oh, well then, I was at Anne's." George blushed and grinned widely.

"Awww." Fred cooed, "I never would've guessed. You, Hermione?"

She smirked, "I wasn't at Anne's, Fred. What a silly question."

"Beg pardon, love, I wasn't thinking." He smiled at her, and George's eyes widened a fraction. There was no way—

"Where were _you_ last night, Gred?" he asked, giving his twin an extra eyebrow twitch and flick of his eyes towards Hermione.

Fred raised his eyebrows at his brother's unspoken question, "Keeping Hermione company while she figured out the defensive magic problem."

"You solved it?" George was temporarily side-tracked and Hermione nodded proudly. "Well, brilliant! We can start testing then. Who's volunteering as the first subject?" Fred and Hermione both stared at George with eerily similar smiles. "Oh, that is not fair."

* * *

Hermione went back to the Burrow on her lunch break for sustinance and a change of clothes, which didn't go unnoticed by George. He cornered his brother immediately following her departure.

"Alright, brother dearest, what were you really doing last night with poor, innocent Hermione?"

Fred chucked, "Nothing sinister! She finished the spellwork around two or three in the morning and we spent the remaining hours walking around."

"Really?" George sounded skeptical, "Walking? Is _that_ what they're calling it these days?"

Fred rolled his eyes, "Honestly, mother, I haven't corrupted our dear employee. And since when have I ever looked at Hermione like…_that_, eh? She's Hermione!"

His brother made a warbling noise of disbelief, "I seem to recall an appraising glance or two at the Yule Ball."

"Oh, who wasn't looking!"

"This morning at breakfast?"

"There was no appraising of any sort this morning. Or any morning. Ever. At all." Fred folded his arms petulantly across his chest and his twin knew there would be no point arguing until his brother's hackles were down.

He held up his hands in surrender and Fred stared at him in suspicion before he started to make them roast beef sandwiches. George sat at the table, watching his brother's shoulders move from stiff and rigid to relaxed a few minutes later.

"Then there was that lovely dress she wore to Bill's wedding."

* * *

Hermione apparated to the Burrow, glad she had drunk those extra three cups of tea. She was feeling the dragging affects of an all-nighter but the caffeine was keeping her focused. She stepped into the kitchen and saw Ron was seated at the table munching on a sandwich. He glanced up sharply at her entrance, and wisely decided to keep his mouth shut—for about a minute.

"Where've you been?"

Hermione snagged a chicken sandwich from the platter on the table and bit into it with gusto. She chewed slowly, looking like she was pondering the answer, "Diagon Alley."

"What, all night?" He looked irritated. Well, that was too bloody bad. She continued to eat her sandwich and merely nodded, appearing unperturbed.

He studied her for a minute and frowned, "You haven't slept at all?" Hermione noticed his tone had changed from anger to concern, and she shook her head with a smile. "Aren't you tired?"

She finished her sandwich and just looked at him, "Of course."

Ron seemed to have some sort of internal struggle with himself before sighing. "Don't push yourself too hard, 'Mione. You do that too much."

Hermione moved around to his side of the table. When he looked up at her, she leaned in to kiss him, but instead of meeting his mouth her lips brushed his cheek. She wasn't sure if he had moved or if she had, but neither of them looked too surprised at the direction it took. She leaned forward to kiss his temple this time and felt something inside her break a little. His breathing hitched, but when she straightened up he gave her a small smile.

"I know. Thanks, Ron." She left the house in a hurry and apparated into a deserted London alley. She held her hand against the brick wall and sunk to her haunches; she stayed there until lunch break was over.

* * *

Fred wasn't sure what had happened in the last hour, but it wasn't anything good. In between helping customers, he watched his cashier's face when she thought no one was looking. There was definitely something wrong. He caught George's eye and beckoned him closer.

"Need you to take over for a mo'."

"What's up?"

Fred shook his head, "Not sure yet. Get Verity on the cash register." George looked from the serious expression on his twin's face to where his eyes rested on the pale witch behind the counter.

"Right."

With a grateful expression, Fred left his brother in charge and hurried over to Hermione. He grabbed her hand without preamble and dragged her into the back room. She thought it was almost appropriate that his actions mirrored those he had taken before, when she had fought with Ron about work a few weeks ago. She sat in one of the conjured bean bag chairs across from the concerned redhead.

Fred looked at her closely, "What's wrong?"

"What makes you think something's wrong?" She echoed their earlier conversation with an ironic smile.

"That's not funny. What happened?" he pressed.

_No jokes this time, eh?_ Hermione thought as she drew in a shaky breath, "My problems aren't your responsibility."

"That's bollocks and you know it."

"I may not be able to stop crying," she tried, her eyes starting to fill.

He had to swallow a couple of times before speaking, "Up to the flat then." He held her hand and apparated them both upstairs into the sitting room.

Hermione had to smile a bit at his consideration even as she sniffled. "I think…Ron and I just broke up."

Fred's eyes narrowed, already planning at least ten different punishments for his ridiculous little brother, "Okay, exactly how hexed does he need to be?"

She gave him a reprimanding look even as tears started to track down her cheeks, "It's nothing like that. It's just—you know it's kind of weird discussing this with his brother."

He waved his hand dismissively, "I'm not his brother right now. I'm your friend. Your girl-friend if you prefer." He batted his eyelashes at her, and she couldn't help giggling, "Just think of me as Ginny but with dashing good looks and a bigger chest. Don't tell her I said that."

Hermione gave a watery laugh, "It was just this sort of mutual goodbye. We'd been dancing around for years and when we finally get together, it turns out we are completely wrong for each other. _Years_ of expectations, _years_ of hoping, _years_ of longing for the affection of someone it turns out isn't the right person?" A sob caught her by surprise and she clapped her hands over her mouth. Just as she predicted, once she started crying she couldn't stop. The tears kept pouring out and the sobs kept coming and the only thing she could do was try and quiet herself.

Fred wasn't sure what he could say to that. How do you remedy the accumulation of seven years worth of disappointment? He wasn't sure, but he thought he knew where to start. He tugged gently on her elbow, and when she moved closer he wrapped his arms around her. Hermione tucked her head into his neck and lost herself.

* * *

After Fred and Hermione hadn't appeared in an hour, George felt a bit apprehensive. He hoped nothing horrendous had happened, but at the same time, if they were just snogging in the back he would be slightly irritated—followed by extremely amused and vindicated. When the stream of customers thinned a bit, he peeked behind the curtain of the back room. They weren't there.

George frowned before his eyes drifted upward in the direction of their flat. He apparated into his own bedroom to muffle the sound of his entrance and opened the door into the sitting room. He grinned widely at the sight of his brother and Hermione sleeping soundly on the couch. His twin was stretched out comfortably, his arms wrapped around the brown-haired witch. Hermione rested on his chest, her head tucked under his chin. George ducked back into his room and snatched the camera resting on his dresser. He turned off the flashbulb and managed to snap a shot of the adorable, sleeping pair without waking them. This would be fuel for much taunting later.

Hermione woke feeling simultaneously exhausted and refreshed, and, for some reason, extremely warm and comfortable. Then she noticed she was moving ever so slightly up and down in sync with the sound of deep breathing. She heard a distinct _thump_, _thump_ beneath her ear and remembered where she was. She had cried herself to sleep, apparently, and Fred had been kind enough to put up with it.

She raised her head to look at the man she was currently using as a pillow. Fred slept on unaware as she stared down at him, tracing the freckles across his face with her eyes. His words from last night floated to the front of her mind, _You should try studying people as closely as you do your books._ He was right—a day ago she would never have imagined Fred would hold her as she cried into his neck about his little brother. She never would've thought he'd notice the hurt behind her eyes as she pretended to be okay. She wouldn't have guessed he enjoyed a bit of quiet under the stars. And, above all, she wouldn't have believed that she'd be this interested in perusing the angles of his cheekbones or the curves of his lips, wouldn't have thought he smelled like a mix between cologne and the spicy-scented fireworks they sold in the shop. She wouldn't have thought she'd be so aware of all the places their bodies were currently touching, feeling the solidity of Quiddich muscles under her breasts, her abdomen, her thighs. Sweet Merlin, she needed to get a grip.

Hermione looked behind her and noticed a blanket was draped over the both of them. She blushed and knew they would both be getting cheeky remarks from George for the next few…years. She looked at her watch. They had been sleeping for five hours and George would be closing the shop soon. She debated with herself on whether she should wake Fred and get back to work or go back to sleep. Well, customers would be thinning out by now, and George and Verity were apparently doing fine without them. Her cheeks grew pinker as she realized her decision was already made. Hermione laid her head back on his chest and shut her eyes with a sigh. For just a little while longer, just a little longer.

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**A/N: **I hope I managed to either make you smile or squee. Reviews are love. Even if I rarely deserve them. ^_^;


	12. Deliberation, Divination and Desperation

A/N: I got re-inspired to write after reading zeegrindylows "Where Your Treasure Is". It's a Severus/Hermione, which is another favorite pairing of mine. If you haven't read it, it comes _highly_ recommended. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Beta'd by Lament of Meow. The title of this chapter was taken for Ron's own interpretation of the three Ds in Apparition.

Disclaimer: Just playing in Rowling's sandbox.

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Chapter Eleven

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Hermione lay prone on Fred's old bed, staring up. She had given up on the Arithmancy text after she realized she had been staring blankly at the same sentence for at least a half an hour. Sighing, she set her whirring mind to what was really bothering her—namely, her now ex-boyfriend. She and Ron had the dreaded, official talk at the breakfast table this morning, and it was over. No tears, no yells—there was only bald disappointment and the inexplicable question as to what exactly had happened. What had they done wrong? She had to admire how well Ron seemed to take it; although, at the same time, she wondered if he'd had a similar breakdown behind closed doors. If she knew him, and she believed she did, his pride would prevent him from sharing his distress with anyone, no matter how cathartic.

The patterns of the burn marks on the ceiling started to form shapes to her eyes. She thought she saw a pumpkin to the right, close to one of the walls, and by the door there was a thin dragon wing. She followed what looked like a trail of stars to a fairly big burn patch resembling a face, which, for reasons she couldn't explain, turned her thoughts in the direction of Fred. He had given her the rest of Friday off when she came in this morning and told him about her discussion with Ron. Hermione thought it would have been awkward coming into the shop the day after they had, quite literally, slept together. However, nothing had seemed to have changed. She was immensely relieved to see that Fred was as wicked and cheerful as ever and nothing suggested he considered what happened particularly out of the ordinary.

George, on the other hand, had a field day the second Hermione stepped into the shop. The innuendo, exaggerated winks and eyebrow waggles followed her until Fred had threatened to tell Anne about an unspecified Saturday in Hogsmeade involving Katie Bell, a bottle of Ogden's and some Spello-tape. Hermione didn't know to what he was referring, but George seemed to suddenly find intense interest in restocking the nearly full shelves of Puking Pastilles. Unfortunately, he returned a moment later to give her a homework assignment. He had no qualms about forcing her to work on her day off and had given her a prototype to test. George had told her to take it home and—his words—"work her mojo" on it.

Turning her head slightly, she stared at the object resting on the boxes in the middle of the room. Purple and spherical with orange handles on opposite ends, the prototype drew her curiosity. She picked it up by its smooth, brightly-colored grips and studied it carefully. Come to think of it, George never really told her what it was supposed to do. Sighing in annoyance, Hermione tucked it under her arm and made her way downstairs to make herself a cup of tea. Maybe she could figure it out after a dose of caffeine.

If this thrice-cursed product failed to work in the next minute, Hermione wouldn't be held responsible for her actions. She fiddled with the handles while a succession of _bangs_, _whizzes_, and _whirrs_ filled the air in a cacophony of maddening noises. She glared once again at the snickering pair occupying the same large flannel blanket thrown over the grass on the Burrow's front lawn.

Harry had his broomstick servicing kit out next to him and had just started polishing the handle, an activity that garnered him very red ears after a particularly wicked innuendo from his girlfriend. Ginny lay on her stomach with her chin resting on her closed fists and was being thoroughly entertained by Hermione's increasing desire to set this particular product aflame.

And oh, did she want to set the thing on fire.

"What exactly did my brothers say it would do?" Ginny asked, wiping tears of hilarity away.

Hermione watched as her friend fanned her burning face as she thought back to what the one-eared twin had said, "Actually, George said it was very self-explanatory."

"Really?" Ginny raised her eyebrows.

"Shut up."

"Well, whatever it was intended for, _I'm_ rather enjoying it," Harry quipped with a grin. Hermione glared lightly at him before throwing it onto the blanket with an irritated huff.

"Well, that's no way to treat our products." Two voices called in tandem as the figures of Fred and George appeared behind the fence. Fred opened the gate for his brother and bowed him inside with a flourish. Folding her arms across her chest, Hermione refused to outwardly show her chagrin over losing her temper.

The twins joined them on the blanket, George throwing himself on his back next to Ginny and Fred lounging near his irate employee. They both looked tired but pleased, and Hermione wondered how the shopped had fared today. She tried to avoid Fred's amused eyes, still slightly ashamed of herself.

He draped a lazy arm over her shoulder and gestured to the product, "Be honest. What do you think?"

Hermione turned her head to stare at him, a small muscle beneath her eye beginning to twitch at an even tempo, "I think if I hadn't put it down—"

"More like thrown it away violently," he interrupted.

"—it would have been blasted half way to Jupiter."

Fred sighed in apparent disappointment, "Back to the drawing board, Forge. She didn't actually blow it up."

George frowned, "She did throw it around a bit."

"I did not!"

"Violently," Fred cooed, rubbing her shoulder consolingly.

"I just tossed it onto the blanket!"

"It was quite a vehement toss, Hermione," Ginny added with a grin.

Hermione paused as Fred's earlier comment finished ruminating, "Wait, you _wanted _me to blow it up?"

His eyes crinkled as he grinned. With a flick of his wand, the orb flew high into the air to hover about thirty feet above their heads. Another flick and the orb exploded in a ball of purple flame, revealing something that had been hidden in its depths. Fred directed the object towards his bushy-haired friend, loving the way curiosity etched itself on every inch of her face. She reached up to wrap her fingers around a parcel covered in blue paper and glanced at the twins to see them gesture for her to open it. Turning it over, she dissected the covering carefully to reveal a beautifully grey and white patterned quill with a wrought silver tip, a WWW's Patented Daydream Charm box underneath it.

"This is lovely," breathed Hermione, the pads of her digits brushing delicately across the downy edge of the feather. She glanced at the Daydream Charm, the outside not depicting scenes typically found on the cover of dime store novels but a pattern of tiny white clouds against a bright blue background.

Ginny poked George in the side with a sharp nail, "That's what it does? It explodes and makes thirty minute fantasies and pretty writing instruments?"

"Not exactly," George replied, rubbing his sore ribs painfully.

Fred took the quill Hermione handed to him and flourished it, "We haven't come up with a name for it yet, but this orb is a sort of randomized product gift package. You can give it to whomever you like and it will nearly give them a heart attack trying to figure it out before granting them some well-deserved products. This is the Not-Your-Notes Quill that allows you to write messages to your specific people without it being read by anyone else. You can write 'You're a git' to any Slytherin in your Potions class and there would be no way to prove it." Hermione rolled her eyes and grinned in spite of herself. Fred summoned the blue and white box next. "And this isn't your typical—"

"—Average—"

"—Mediocre—"

"—Run-of-the-mill Daydream Charm. It's designed to specifically tailor itself to your imagination."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, her mind racing through the calculations that would be required for that to work, "Really?"

"All it takes is an incantation," George affirmed, nodding proudly.

"That's brilliant," Hermione breathed, "You've really outdone yourselves with this one."

"And coming from her, that's saying something," Fred nodded to Harry importantly, as if imparting knowledge the latter had never considered. Hermione turned red.

"So, does mum need a Calming Drought yet?" George asked. He amused himself by pointing his wand up at the soft, white clouds and shaping them into inappropriate objects.

Ginny sat up and stretched, "Any minute now. She wants everything to be perfect tonight." She gave her boyfriend a playful look, "If our mum collapses from exhaustion I'm holding you responsible."

Harry looked mildly distressed at this, "I told her I didn't want a fuss."

"Oh, no, it's only the birthday of the bloke who defeated Voldemort," Fred said mildly.

"Yeah, of no importance at all to anyone," George mocked, raising his eyebrow at the younger man. It was Harry's turn to flush.

Hermione was looking forward to tonight's Friday dinner, as it was also intended to be the early celebration of Harry's eighteenth birthday; the first he was able to celebrate without the threat of Voldemort hanging over him like a pall. Neville and Luna were sure to come as were other familiar Order members like Hagrid, Lee Jordan and the Minister of Magic himself.

She abruptly realized three things in succession. The first was that she should have been in the kitchen helping as much as she could hours ago. With that resolution, the second thing she noticed was that she was unconsciously running the edge of the quill along the small Daydream Charm box that she still held in her lap. She hadn't meant to keep it, and she turned to Fred to give them back when she noticed something else. Fred's arm was still casually resting across her shoulders. Hermione followed the path from his shoulder, up his neck and to his face, which was turned away from her and towards the clouds his twin was shaping overhead. The sunlight filtering through the fluffy, white condensation flickered across his features, emphasizing his freckles and setting his red hair aflame.

Suddenly, she didn't want to go anywhere.

Her reluctance to leave confused and alarmed her, and she scrambled up from the blanket. Fred startled slightly as his arm lost its support and it fell to the blanket.

"Sorry," she called over her shoulder, already stepping into the house, "I'm going to see if Mrs. Weasley needs help."

Ginny watched her flustered best friend leave in a hurry and wondered what she had missed while watching George's antics. Had something happened? She looked at Harry who was still watching the sky, his broom ministrations temporarily forgotten, and then glanced over to Fred, who was looking after Hermione with a puzzled expression. Ginny caught his gaze, raised her eyebrows and got a shrug in response.

She touched Harry's shoulder and indicated that she was going inside before following Hermione into the house. The kitchen was a maelstrom of activity with her mother in the center. Pots and pans of various sizes were clattering around the cramped kitchen, flying this way and that and never spilling a drop of their contents. Hermione sat at the table, attempting to master the spell of potato-peeling. Her face was slightly pink and Ginny thought that her expression was too contemplative and worried for her mind to be solely on tubers.

She sat down on Hermione's left and grabbed a potato herself, continuing to study her friend even as she directed her next question to the older witch zooming around the kitchen, "Fred and George are here, mum. They want to know if you need any help."

Molly took a moment to glance at her youngest before shaking her head and casting five more spells in varying directions, "I'm fine, dear. You know they just make things more difficult." Ginny smiled at her mother, noticing that although the older woman seemed harried and rushed, there was hint of peace somewhere in the lines of her eyes and mouth that indicated contentedness. She felt a rush of pride in her mother, a woman who could be in one moment fiercely maternal and in another every inch the fearless warrior.

Glancing back at Hermione, she noticed her friend looking more and more relaxed. Tense muscles loosened and death grips on potatoes just became firm holds. Hermione looked sideways at her and Ginny gave a questioning look. The bushy-haired witch gestured helplessly to the pile of potatoes on the table then to Molly. Ginny took the hint and, with short knife in hand, helped Hermione finish prepping the vegetables in record time. Hermione vanished the peelings and followed Ginny's lead up the stairs and into the redhead's bedroom.

"So what happened?" Ginny asked without preamble.

Hermione sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, her hands clenched into fists on her lap, "Nothing really. I'm sure I'm just—maybe it's that—I don't know." She finished lamely with a sigh.

Ginny looked skeptical, "That seems unlikely." Hermione looked uncomfortable and her friend nodded, "I'm guessing you know exactly what the problem is and you're just not letting yourself admit it. So, what happened?"

"I think it's that Fred and I slept together yesterday, which is something quite intimate really, and I suppose I'm just feeling a little awkward about it," Hermione blurted.

Ginny's mind went blank in light of this completely unexpected information. She took a deep breath to filter out the anger, "You slept with Fred?"

Hermione's eyes widened and she waved her hands frantically in front of her, "No, that's not what I meant! Sorry. We fell asleep on his couch together."

Ginny blinked and then laughed in relief, "Merlin, Hermione! I was a second away from hexing you to next Thursday for cheating on my brother with…my brother. Well, that's confusing isn't it? Sounds like Rita Skeeter's wet dream."

Hermione was shocked into laughter for a moment, but began to blush fiercely in consideration of Ginny's misinterpretation. The redhead studied her heated face and asked slowly, "You don't fancy him, do you? Because that wouldn't be fair to Ron, no matter how much a prat he is sometimes."

Hermione wasn't eager to start telling people, but she knew she'd have to say it eventually, "Ron and I are no longer together, Ginny."

Ginny watched Hermione struggle with the words and she scowled, "What did he do now?"

"Nothing, nothing. It's nothing either of us did. We just decided that it wasn't working. We fight more now than we ever did before, and we aren't—compatible."

Hermione's eyes started to fill and Ginny pulled her into a hug, "After all that time? Oh, Hermione, I'm so sorry."

A few moments passed in which Hermione tried to compose herself. She was making a very bad habit of crying miserably in the company of Weasleys. As she thought that, her thoughts turned on a dime to focus on Fred once again, and her already flushed face became even redder.

Ginny's expression became shrewd. "You never did answer my question, Hermione."

Hermione considered playing the fool, even if would only garner an extra few seconds of peace, but decided against it, "Of course I don't fancy him, Ginny. I've only just broken up with Ron, and—it's Fred." She wrinkled her nose at the strange idea, even as her mind replayed the moment they had woken up together the day before, when they had caught each other's eyes for a short, long moment until George's wit had cut through the silence.

Ginny watched her friend's face and smiled slightly, "Well, considering your odd taste in men, it wouldn't be a stretch from Ron to our older brother. And, in my opinion, you'd be getting a better deal." She ignored Hermione's protestations. "He's got a bigger imagination, he's not built like a broomstick—unlike Ronnikins—and despite all contrary evidence he's a vast deal more mature."

As she made her argument, Ginny surprised herself with the idea that Fred and Hermione had much more in common than anyone had ever previously thought. And who could blame her? Before today, the whole family believed that Hermione would be married into the family by the end of next year at the very latest. But now that Ginny had opened the door to possibilities, all sorts of revelations came flying out.

Everyone knew that Hermione was ages ahead of anyone else in her year, just shy of sheer genius in logic and magical ability. The only difference between her brother and her friend in that respect was the amount of effort each put into insuring that everyone else could see their brilliance. Hermione cared about earning Outstandings and Exceeds Expectations, cared about O.W. L. scores and ensuring that she would have something to show for every ounce of effort she put into her work. Fred, on the other hand, didn't care about official recognition for his genius so long as his products worked and brought laughter to whoever bought them.

Ginny also knew that Fred enjoyed brief moments of quiet and solitude—where he could let his mind do what it pleased. A presence of mind that she believed would appeal to Hermione greatly when compared to Ron's constant need for employment, entertainment and reassurance. Fred was also a thousand times more laid back and easy to get along with and ten thousand times more conscious of other's emotions. Although, Ginny amended her thoughts, Ron had become suspiciously perceptive in the past year.

As she stared at her sniffling friend, Ginny concluded that Ron was still a work-in-progress, whereas Fred was a fully grown man and a brilliant wizard, something Hermione wouldn't be able to ignore for long.

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The noise that drifted around the dinner tables was almost deafening. Conversations were loud and excited, and in some cases, people were yelling pleasantries across two tables to be heard.

Hermione had donned a nice, lavender dress for the occasion and she had gotten a number of wolf-whistles from the eldest two Weasley boys and the twins when she came down the stairs, something that, in light of Ginny's assertions, made her blush something fierce. Ron had given her a thin smile and a nod before heading quietly to the kitchen.

They were both relieved to be on opposite sides of Harry, which granted them the ability to avoid looking at each other accidentally. The birthday boy himself was sitting across the table from his girlfriend, who was giving him salacious winks when she thought no one was looking, enjoying the way he continued to blush in response. On Hermione's other side, Neville was in deep conversation with Fred and George about the magical properties of a certain kind of luminescent mushroom they were thinking of using in another product.

Glancing unobtrusively down the table at Ron, she could hear Luna explaining to him the latest article from The Quibbler. Hermione smiled in amusement at her ridiculous hand gestures and felt a bubble of pressure in her chest ease when Ron guffawed at the ridiculousness of the Ravenclaw's elucidation. They would be fine.

The birthday cake Molly Weasley brought in after dinner would have fed a small army. Which, for the present company, Hermione thought appropriate. It was made to look like a miniature Quiddich field, complete with goal posts made of spun sugar and tiny Griffindor players charmed to fly in formations that Harry himself had designed as Quiddich Captain—Ron must have helped his mother with that part.

"We can't eat that, Molly, it's a masterpiece," Kingsley protested, his smooth deep tones carrying across the tables easily. Everyone nodded their agreement.

"Nonsense. It's made to be eaten." Molly asserted firmly, brooking no argument. She smiled warmly at Harry as she handed him the first slice, "Happy Birthday, Harry."

He took it, attempting to blink back tears as he surveyed the people around him. More loved ones than he gave himself the luxury of imagining when he slept in a small, dark broom cupboard in Privet Drive.

"Happy Birthday, Harry!" Everyone chimed in, beaming at the eighteen year old man.

After everyone had tucked into dessert and were lounging in their chairs and chatting amicably with their neighbors, Arthur Weasley stood from his chair.

He let them all fall silent before speaking, "As we are all in danger of falling asleep where we sit, let me make a case for brevity."

"That's a first!" Fred and George called together.

"Thank you boys," their father grinned and waited for the laughter to quiet, "We're here to celebrate the anniversary of the birth of a most extraordinary wizard. One who has saved all our lives at least once and who has done it without complaint or conceit and with all the good grace he can command. Please join me in raising a glass to Harry Potter. Happy Birthday, son." He held up a snifter of firewhiskey and all the occupants of the tables followed his example, lifting their drinks into the cool, night air and cheering. There was a moment of silence as they all took a sip and, in some cases, large gulps. "Now, I believe it's time for presents. And I think the first should come from our own Minister for Magic." He nodded at Kingsley and sat down, blushing minutely as his wife leaned over to give him a kiss.

Kingsley rose with his trademark grace and directed his gaze to Harry's shining green eyes, "This gift isn't just for you but for your fellow classmates as well. For all those students who fought in the war, and who could not complete your education, you are officially invited to begin Auror training this September." Hermione stared at him, astonished, as did the rest of her classmates.

"You're joking!" Ron exclaimed, his eyes fixed on Kingsley with a disbelieving look.

Kingsley smiled, "I am not. My sense of humor belongs to the Ministry, and I'm not authorized to use it today." Those who weren't struck dumb by the announcement laughed. Fleur spoke excitedly to Bill at the end of the table, and Charlie clapped Ron on the back so hard that his little brother almost fell into the bowl of punch.

Harry's look of shock melted into excitement and he reached across the table to shake Kingsley's large hand, "Thank you." Kingsley nodded and sat back down, which was Molly's cue to begin handing Harry presents from the enormous pile by the door.

Hermione's mind raced as she processed this new information. Not take the N.E.W.T.s? Miss her last year at Hogwarts? She felt a rush of fear as she looked at Harry, Ron and Neville who she knew were bound to take Kingsley's offer. Whatever her decision would be, she would never go to class with any of them again. She would never sit in the common room with them, eat with them in the Great Hall, see them play Quiddich in the crisp Autumn air—

She knew it wasn't the end of the world, but, as she watched Ron encouraging Harry to "just rip the bloody paper," she knew she had just witnessed the end of something immensely important. And it made her sad.

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A/N: Reviews are love. Thank you, my lovely reviewers, for your continued support. You're reviews make me squirm with joy. ;D


	13. Decisions

A/N: I'm getting better at uploading at reasonable(ish) times. I hope you enjoy the chapter. Beta'd by Lament of Meow.

Disclaimer: Just playing in Rowling's sandbox.

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Chapter Twelve

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Smoke wafted from the small cauldron on the worktable where Hermione stood, winding its tendrils into her curls and causing them to be more bushy and unruly than usual. She regretted not tying back her hair before she started, but lacked the energy to stop what she was doing long enough to fish a hair tie out of her pocket. The potion in front of her threw off a sudden burst of white light and she blinked away her blindness before jabbing her wand at the liquid. It grew dull again, almost meekly, and she sighed in irritation.

Harry's birthday celebration had been two weeks ago and they had already celebrated Ginny's a couple of days previous. She had another two and a half weeks before the Hogwarts Express departed for Hogsmeade, and she still had not made up her mind if she wanted to be on it when it left. Soon after every one had gone home following Harry's party, the younger Weasleys, Harry and Hermione had remained outside to discuss Kingley's proposal. Ron and Harry had decided almost immediately that they would be starting the training in September, but Ginny was a bit more hesitant and Hermione was completely divided.

She threw a few half-hearted diagnostic spells at the cauldron and jumped when the potion let out a soft scream. Hermione shook her head, calmed her pounding heart and glared at the innocuous-looking potion before paying more attention to her work. It wouldn't do to let any singular error in George's potion slip past her and potentially injure a future customer, not that he made many mistakes in his Potioneering. Had he given more than a passing thought at his O.W.L. exams, he might have qualified for N.E.W.T. level Potions, even by Professor Snape's standards. Hermione sighed as her thoughts brushed past her old Potions Master. She had no fond memories of his classes—apart from making a name for lions in a den of snakes—but she couldn't help but feel sorry he hadn't lived to see the world that for so long he had sacrificed so much.

"Knut for your thoughts." Fred's voice broke through her grim reflections and she jumped again. He sat at the foot of the stairs, legs spread before him with his back against the wall, like he had been reclining there for hours rather than just a few minutes. She started to stir the cauldron feverishly, as if she had just been busy rejuvenating the ingredients before she had noticed his presence in the basement workshop.

"Oh—just—things." She stopped stirring abruptly after the potion let out an evil chuckle.

Fred stood to inspect the cauldron curiously, "Unexpected but interesting. How long has it been doing that?"

Hermione frowned, "That's the first time, I think." She attempted to brush her hair out of her face with the back of her hand. "Although, it did scream a little a minute or two ago."

Fred raised his eyebrows, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say the great, brainy Goddess divine is distracted."

"Nonsense."

"You have an Amaranth branch in your hair."

This gave Hermione pause. "I thought it looked fetching?"

"And that it does, but who in Merlin's name are you trying to impress?" He stepped forward to remove the plant gently from the tangle behind her ear. Hermione merely sighed in response and tilted her head to give him better access. "You're worrying about Kingsley's offer, aren't you?"

"Of course I am!" Hermione's reservation crumbled and she finally relinquished the conflict she had been nurturing for fourteen days, "What on Earth am I supposed to do? I'd always thought I would be attending Hogwarts for seven years and taking N.E.W.T.s and stressing over post-graduation plans with Harry, Ron and Ginny. Now Harry and Ron and even Neville are going to start training in September, and they never even gave a second thought as to whether or not I even want to _be_ an Auror—which I'm not even sure I do—and if I don't go I'm afraid they'll think I've abandoned them. It's ridiculous! None of this was supposed to happen. The war was supposed to end, my parents were supposed to be safe and happy and we were all supposed to go back to Hogwarts for one last year of normalcy before having to really—grow up." Hermione paused, slightly out of breath. She avoided looking at the man next to her, opting instead for resting her eyes on the crinkled leaves of the plant that he had painstakingly removed and set on the table.

"Hermione." Fred's voice was quiet, but when she looked up at his face he was smirking. "I would've thought that after two weeks of deliberation you might come up with _some _solution."

She frowned. "I told you I can't—"

"Aren't you supposed to be the smartest witch of your age?"

A line appeared between her eyebrows as she felt the stirrings of irritation. "I can't deci—" Fred stepped into her personal space, his hands suddenly on her waist.

"And you can't make a simple decision?" She was drawing a blank, hyper aware of the pressure of his hands above her hips and the extreme closeness of him. The spicy scent of Fred filled the air and she felt slightly dizzy. Hermione felt his fingers move and she let out a distracted sort of giggle.

"I was hoping you were ticklish," Fred confessed, his smirk turning into a wicked grin as his fingers began to move rapidly over her ribs and waist.

"Fred, stop!" Hermione shrieked, laughing uncontrollably at the sensation. She attempted to escape, but accidentally edged herself into a corner of the room where escape was impossible.

"What do you want, Hermione?" Tears tracked their ways down her cheeks as she thought frantically back to where exactly she'd left her wand. Once she got it back there would be hell to pay for Fred Weasley.

"I WANT TO GO BACK TO HOGWARTS!" His deft fingers ceased their movement at her outburst and she attempted to catch her breath. Wiping her tears away, Hermione felt, along with extreme annoyance at her companion, an equally powerful sensation of serenity. She wanted Hogwarts. She wanted to learn, and she didn't think she would ever want to stop. All it took to reach her resolution was a semblance of adversity, a force any Gryffindor worth their colors would respond to with defiance and conviction—a fact that Fred, a member of a large family of scarlet and gold, would know something about.

"There!" Fred exclaimed, wrapping an arm about her shoulders companionably. "That wasn't so difficult, was it?" He looked at her face, her expression caught between amusement and murderous intent. Hermione glanced away and at the cauldron, moving forward as if to inspect it. When she turned to face him again, her wand was in her hand, a look of purpose in her eyes.

Fred turned tail and ran, dodging jets of multi-colored light as she threw whatever spells came to mind at him. He laughed madly as he took two or three steps at a time up to the first level of the shop. A look back at her almost gave him pause; a bright smile split her features, the expression giving light to every curve of her face.

* * *

The influx of owls at breakfast reminded them all strongly of mornings at Hogwarts. Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley stared as one owl after another flew in through the open window and landed willy-nilly amongst bowls of cereal, piles of toast and plates of kippers and eggs.

There were eight letters in total, and Molly had to search for a solid five minutes in one of the kitchen cabinets for extra owl treats. The birds gulped them down impatiently and took off again, like a well-trained, feathery fleet, and they all grabbed for the letters at the same time.

"This one's for you, Ron."

"Mum, you've got two from Bill and Charlie."

"Harry, that's mine you've got."

After a brief minute of confusion, silence reigned over the kitchen as they each perused their respective correspondence. Hermione's letters were both differently packaged. The green cursive on the front and the Hogwarts seal on the back indicated the contents of one letter, but the other was on lighter paper with familiar, tidy script across the front.

She saved the latter for when she was alone; reading any correspondence from her parents after such a long separation was likely to make her cry, and she didn't relish bursting into tears so early in the morning. Running her hands over the familiar green ink, she noticed that Professor McGonagall's neat writing was absent and in its place was Professor Sprout's haphazard loopy scrawl. She knew the Transfiguration Professor had taken over as Headmistress, but no one had told her who had taken the position of Deputy. Hermione didn't know Professor Sprout as well as Neville perhaps, but she was certain that the benefit of both women's tenures as school officials would be incalculable.

She opened the letter hurriedly, scanning the official transcription before looking at the two pages behind. One listed the supplies she would require for her most difficult year at Hogwarts while the other was—

"They appointed me Head Girl!" Hermione's shout made everyone at the table jump. She upended the envelope and watched a shiny silver badge fall onto the table with a loud clank.

"Congratulations, dear!" Molly was the first to recover and gave the young woman a hug. "We'll have to make a special dinner for you. What would you like?"

Hermione was slightly breathless as she responded, "Don't trouble yourself, Mrs. Weasley. Anything you make is a work of genius."

While Molly blushed and protested, her daughter let out a loud crow. "I made Quidditch Captain!"

Hermione looked at her friend's ecstatic expression, pleased beyond belief. "That's wonderful, Ginny."

Harry took a break from staring at Hermione to kiss Ginny in congratulations. Molly looked away politely, undoubtedly pleased as punch at her daughter's choice in men.

Hermione finally looked at Harry and Ron, who had been staring at her since her announcement. "What?"

"You got your Hogwarts letter," Ron stated rather stupidly. He held up his own correspondence. "And you didn't get your Auror training instructions."

"Aren't you going with us?" Harry clarified.

Hermione felt a pang of panic, and it must have showed. Both men's expressions made her think of a pair of sad puppies she had seen in a London pet shop window when she was a child.

"Oh, stop it!" Ginny scolded both of them, smacking the appendage nearest to her. Harry rubbed his arm, a rueful expression taking root on his features.

"Stop what?" Ron demanded. "She was supposed to start Auror training with us!"

"I never said that." Hermione glared at Ron, irritation replacing her guilt. "You didn't even ask if I wanted to go! As usual, you just assumed I would follow wherever you two lead without question. And here I was, worried I would upset your delicate sensibilities by choosing education over a life of danger when you obviously won't do me the courtesy of asking what I _want_ to do." Hermione refrained from raising her voice—this was Mrs. Weasley's kitchen after all—but every syllable she spoke strained with repressed fury. She stood up and stared Ron down. "Fred was right. I should be thinking about what _I_ want for a change." They all stared as she fled the kitchen, heading towards her temporary room. Harry looked appropriately repentant, and Ginny rubbed his shoulder sympathetically.

"What does Fred have to do with anything?" Ron demanded, red-faced and angry. Ginny sighed as her mother glared pointedly at him. Trust Ron to unflinchingly focus on the irrelevant aspects of an unpleasant conversation to avoid responsibility.

"That's beside the point, Ronald Weasley. I cannot believe neither of you asked Hermione if she wanted to be an Auror. Did we neglect to teach you some consideration growing up? When she's cooled down I want you to apologize, _really_ apologize. You too, Harry. You're a sweet boy, but sometimes I don't know where your head is."

"Mum!" Ginny gasped, absolutely shocked. She had never before heard her mother utter a single cross word to Harry. She studied her boyfriend's face. He looked similarly taken aback but she could see the beginnings of a smile in the movements of his mouth.

"You're right, Mrs. Weasley. We should have asked," Harry admitted. "When she comes down we'll say we're sorry. Come on Ron." He pulled his best friend up by the collar, and Ron smartly held his tongue until he was out of earshot of his mother.

Molly sighed as she watched her youngest son exit the kitchen, his face still slightly maroon. She always regretted that he had inherited her temper as much as her tendency to freckle in the sun and her inability to keep from broadcasting her emotions to anyone with working vision. She looked at the table full of half-eaten breakfast food and decided a second cuppa would do wonders.

Without hesitation, Ginny started to clear the contents of the table, vanishing stray bits of food and levitating dirty dishes into the kitchen sink. Being able to do magic outside of school was a blessing.

She looked out the kitchen window where she could see Ron's figure pacing back and forth in the distance, saying something both emphatic and soundless to a patiently listening Harry. She thought about his question, asked in completely casual thoughtlessness, and smiled grimly through the window.

* * *

Hermione threw herself onto the bed, still fuming at the look on their faces. She just _knew_ that they would take it this way. What did they expect? That they would be the Golden Trio forever? What did they think would happen after they all graduated? The parchment of her Hogwarts letter chafed her fingers as she rubbed its surface distractedly; she tossed it away and it fell heavily onto the silver badge with _HG_ etched into its surface. _Hermione Granger_. _Head Girl. _

She sat up and looked at the letter with her mother's writing on the front. Her heart felt like it was constricting and she had to breathe deeply before picking it up and opening it quickly.

_My Dearest Hermione,_

_Your father and I thought we should write to inform you of our arrival back in England. We had a lovely time at the conference in New Hampshire and only wish you could have been there. It's been so long since we last spoke, and we want you to know we miss you terribly. _

_The office has reopened and we were wondering if you would like to come back home and play receptionist like you used to. We are well aware that you typically start the school term on the first of September, but that still leaves us a small amount of time to forgive and forget. It's something your father and I have grown accustomed to, and we feel that if you returned, things could fall back into place as they were before your misguided actions. _

_We hope to hear from you soon. _

_With love,_

_Mum_

The tears that travelled down Hermione's face were not just from sadness, as she had expected, but from anger as well. They were still treating her like an ill-behaved child rather than a woman who had made a decision during wartime to protect those she loved at all costs. If she were go to home and _play_ receptionist and _play_ the prodigal daughter would things ever really fall back into place? She didn't think they could. Now that half of the world saw her as a hero, now that she had seen people slaughtered in battle, she ceased to be childlike in any way. As much as she loved them, her parents had never seen destruction on the scale that she had and had never been so familiar with the face of death they could paint its contours in their dreams—as she had done on innumerable occasions. Her damnable pride refused to allow her to be patronized and questioned, even by her own parents.

Hermione spent several minutes thinking about how she should proceed. She was certain this was something that could never be resolved. There was no common ground to find between them, because she was every inch their daughter. They were all unquestionably right, unquestionably in control—Type A personalities showing in every clean line of their clothes, every spotless counter, every neat, perfectly-labeled category into which they placed their worlds.

She'd go mad.

No, the only thing to do would be to visit home for the remainder of the summer and escape as often as possible into the world where no one asked her to be something less than she was. She wouldn't _play_. But she would go back, if only for a little while.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the grimness of the chapter, but it should be lighter of heart again soon. Reviews are love.


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